


In a Day or Two

by sirsparklepants



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Bondage, Child Abuse, Drunk Sex, Face-Fucking, Frottage, Gay Billy Hargrove, Homophobic Language, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Porn with Feelings, Possession, Post-Season/Series 02, Post-Season/Series 03, Power Dynamics, Pre-Season/Series 03, Recreational Drug Use, Rimming, Semi-Public Sex, Under-negotiated Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-09-18
Packaged: 2020-08-11 17:11:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 39,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20157151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirsparklepants/pseuds/sirsparklepants
Summary: It was two weeks after high school graduation in 1985 in Hawkins, Indiana, and Billy Hargrove hadn't left.After his apology to Steve Harrington goes in a direction he didn't expect, Billy is a little glad about that. He probably shouldn't be. But he is.(aka, what if Steve and Billy hooked up a couple of weeks before season 3?)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was listening to the Unplugged version of Take On Me the other day, and it made me have several feelings. Several very angsty feelings. Naturally, I decided to purge them by writing this fic and therefore (hopefully) giving them all to you. Buckle up, y'all. We don't get canon divergent until the very end. The boys are in for a rough ride. 
> 
> I made a playlist [on Spotify.](https://open.spotify.com/user/sirsparklepants/playlist/0EBlrXah5fAO4AwWr5hdNM?si=PGOfTxXxR1iRddI7gVyBUQ) I fudged some of the dates for the songs. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> (When you see it, if you're wondering if it's a reference to Heathers: yes, it is.)
> 
> Edit: realized I never explicitly stated this, but I've put graduation for Hawkins High at June 6 of '85, if for no other reason than I also graduated high school on the first Thursday of June. It also means there's exactly four weeks between graduation and July 4th.

It was two weeks after high school graduation in 1985 in Hawkins, Indiana, and Billy Hargrove hadn't left yet. 

He told himself that it just made sense to save up as much as he could, since the Camaro gulped down gas, especially the way he drove, and California was so much more expensive than Indiana to live. He needed a cushion in case the first job he found didn't pay enough for rent on whatever beat-up shoebox he found. And that was true, a little, but Billy had been saving to leave his dad for two years now, ever since he could hold down a job. He'd squirreled his stash away in pieces in five or six innocuous places: taped to the bottom of Max's dresser, the space behind the glovebox, the undersides of some of the kitchen drawers. Never in his own room. It was more than enough for gas, food, and rent for a couple of months, and Billy knew it. The money thing was really just a story he was telling himself. Really, he was staying for Max.

Max, who was only just learning to navigate the tides of Neil's temper. Max, whose mother couldn't shield her any more than she could shield herself. Max, who had a mouth on her and hung out with mostly boys and who slammed around the house in obvious displeasure for hours after Neil and Billy had a 'private conversation'. Max, who he'd apologized to in January, after the most miserable Christmas of his life, the first one since she and Susan moved in where she hadn't slipped a badly drawn card with a crude joke under his door early Christmas morning, or bothered to play happy families to placate his dad. Max, who he was kind of okay with now. Max, who he'd die before telling but die before he let her get hurt. 

Max, who knew how to push all his goddamn buttons, he thought, as she elbowed his ribs from the passenger seat. 

"You've already apologized to everyone else! You have to tell Steve you're sorry too," she hissed at him.

"Who says I'm sorry?" he asked her, just so she didn't feel like she could boss him around without a fight

Max snorted. "You hang around longer when he's here," she said. 

Billy glared at her, but it didn't mean anything and she knew it. The elbowing graduated to a two-handed shove. "Go!" Max said. 

Billy went. 

They were parked outside the arcade and Harrington had just dropped off Henderson - it was his last playdate or whatever before his camp thing. Billy kind of hated that he knew that shit now, but it was worth having Max not hating him any more. Harrington was four cars down and clearly about to pull out before Billy stepped over. Harrington eyed him warily and only opened the driver's side window a crack. 

"Can I have a word?" Billy asked, trying to catch Harrington's eye. 

"You're crazy if you think I'm getting into a car with you," Harrington told him. He pointedly clicked the locks. 

Billy winced. He guessed he deserved that. "Doesn't have to be in the car," he said. "Here? In the arcade?" 

Harrington lifted his eyes from about the level of Billy's jaw to meet his eyes, finally. "I'm not," he said, talking slowly like Billy was stupid, "talking to you - anywhere - without witnesses. And I don't want you around the kids, either."

"Did they tell you I apologized?" Billy asked before he could help himself. 

"Yeah, they did," Harrington said, "but talk's cheap, Hargrove, and I've got a lot of actions that speak louder from you."

Billy clenched his fists until his nails bit into his palms and counted to five. He reminded himself of the feel of Harrington's face splitting under his fists. He deserved this, he repeated to himself. 

"I've got work so I can't meet you at the diner or something," he said, "but are you going to Heather Chandler's party tonight?" 

"I could be," Harrington said. The look in his eye was a little less hostile at the idea of a party. No matter how he'd finished high school, Billy thought, Harrington still liked to have a good time now and again. 

"I'll be there," Billy said. "Can we talk then?" 

"I guess we'll see," Harrington said.

* * *

The music was pounding out of Heather Chandler's house when Billy pulled up, loud enough that he felt it shake the floorboards of the Camaro. It was late enough that there was already some drunken whooping coming from inside and at least one couple screaming at each other on the lawn - Billy had had to take Max to some last minute kid thing that he was half sure she'd made up to punish him for his unsuccessful apology to Harrington. He didn't see the BMW anywhere as he got out and walked in, but he was still hopeful that Harrington might be there. The house was in the same ritzy neighborhood that Tommy and Carol had said Harrington lived in, back when Billy was new in town. Maybe he walked. 

The noise and heat of the crowd seemed to pick up when Billy walked in, and usually he'd revel in it, feed off of it. But he was a man on a mission tonight. He didn't want to know how bad he'd screw up apologizing to Harrington if he got drunk. So he kept to one plastic cup, to settle his nerves a little, and looked for the crown of hair that should have been visible above the crowd.

It wasn't easy. High school had just ended, and the dregs of his status still clung to Billy, helped along by the lifeguard job - one of the few cool occupations available in Hawkins. Everyone wanted a piece of him. Billy didn't want a piece of any of them right now, though, so he brushed them all off, fake grinning so hard his cheeks hurt as he struggled not to snap. He didn't need to come to Harrington high off a fight. 

When they realized he wasn't seriously drinking or interested in hooking up - "gotta get my little sister later," he fibbed, rolling his eyes, whenever anyone asked - the crowd dissipated a little. Enough that Billy could catch glimpses here and there. Finally, he spotted Harrington. He was leaned up against a wall, caging a chick in with one arm and his body. Julie something, Billy thought. His throat felt tight. She looked pretty happy to be there. Probably he shouldn't interrupt. Probably would make his apology ring hollow if he interrupted Harrington hooking up to give it. But Billy was always full of bad ideas. Never had much in the way of impulse control. He headed over anyway. 

He didn't pull Harrington away from the girl, much as he wanted to. He simply crossed his arms and leaned against the wall next to her, a little too close to the both of them for comfort, and said, "Harrington! Think you owe me a little talk."

Julie or whoever huffed, and Harrington turned to face him, straightening up. "I didn't agree to shit, Hargrove," he said. 

Billy smirked at them both, all teeth. "Yeah, but you showed up," he said. "Kind of seems like you wanna hear me out." 

"Whatever," Julie said from beside him, rolling her eyes. "I'm not sticking around for this macho bullshit. Steve, when you're done here, come find me?" She gave Harrington a flirty grin, Billy a decidedly less friendly look, and disappeared into the kitchen. 

Harrington stared after her for a moment, and then turned his full attention to Billy, who shivered a little. The look in Harrington's eyes was stormy. It sent a thrill through Billy to get that intense look turned all on him. It was like that night, almost, only Billy knew he wasn't gonna lose control, so he was free to just enjoy it. 

"Say what the fuck you want to say, then leave me alone," Harrington said in a low voice Billy had to struggle to hear over the party noise. 

"Not so fast," Billy said. "I won't take you away from the witnesses, but I don't want anyone to overhear us."

Harrington glared at him for a few long moments, and Billy thought he might actually walk away, go chase after Julie maybe. Then he growled out, "Fine," and grabbed Billy by the bicep, towing him out the back door out towards an immaculate storage shed. They could be seen through the windows, Billy was pretty sure, but they were far enough out that the specifics of their conversation wasn't audible.

"Well?" Harrington said, leaning up against the shed. Billy thought he might be kind of drunk, actually. He was less nervous than he was earlier, more confrontational, and he seemed to like propping himself up, like he wasn't quite sure of his balance. "What the fuck do you have to say?" 

"I'm sorry," Billy forced out, staring at Harrington's shoes. "For - well, for beating the shit out of you and not stopping. That was fucked up. I was fucked up. I'm sorry for being a dick the rest of the time too, but that time takes the cake."

They stood in silence in the humid Indiana night for a while. Billy wished he'd lit up a cigarette or something when Harrington pulled him out here, just to have something to do with his hands. He looked up, finally, and met the other boy's eyes. 

Harrington was still studying him with that same intensity, brows turned down and arms crossed. "Did Max put you up to this?" he asked eventually. 

"What?" Billy asked. It wasn't the reaction he'd been expecting. 

"Did she make you say sorry to me?" Harrington repeated. "I know you've been trying to make nice with her."

"She asked, but I wanted to," Billy said, and the words felt clumsy in his mouth no matter how true they were. "I just kind of needed a push."

"A push," Harrington repeated disdainfully. "You know, Hargrove, I have a lot of trouble believing that. And a forced apology just doesn't ring true."

Billy pulled at his hair and tried to breathe deeply. "I can't make you believe me, Harrington, what do you want me to do?" he asked. He wanted to stomp off, give up on this, but Harrington had him pinned with his gaze. 

"I want you to prove it to me," Harrington said. "I want you to get down on your knees and work for it."

Billy's mouth went dry and his whole body was hit with a wave of heat, head to dick to toes. His fingertips tingled. It took him two tries to get any sound to come out of his mouth. "Here?" he croaked out, trying not to look up at the lit-up windows of the house. 

"Not right here - I don't want to get arrested. But here, at this party, where anyone could walk in and see. I want you to risk something for me. Then I'll know you're sorry," Harrington said. 

Billy would be risking a hell of a lot more than Harrington knew, doing this. Putting this boy's dick in his mouth with half the graduating class doing shots on the other side of a door. But if it did come out, did get back to his dad, he had his money, worst came to worst. And he wanted this. Wanted Harrington's electric-hot gaze on him while he looked up from his knees. Wanted to feel his jaw stretch around a dick again. Wanted this boy in particular. 

"Okay," he said, and prayed he didn't sound too eager so Harrington wouldn't call this off. 

Harrington's gaze sharpened with something like surprise before he grabbed Billy by his bicep again and dragged him inside the shed. Someone could have seen them go in. Billy didn't check. He couldn't care right now, with something he'd wanted for months within reach. 

It was dark once Harrington closed the door, and it smelled like gasoline and gas clippings from the lawn tools spread around the space. It didn't matter. Billy felt Harrington get settled against the door, put one hand on his shoulder, and Billy was dropping to his knees. 

This close, Harrington's body heat had Billy sweating in the stale, humid air. He ran his hands down Harrington until he found the waistband of his jeans. He unbuttoned them and shoved his hand in, getting a nice handful of Harrington's dick. It was half-hard and getting harder, and Billy had to stifle a groan, feeling the hot, soft skin beneath his fingers. He leaned forward and inhaled, hoping Harrington couldn't hear. This close, he could smell the intoxicating musk of Harrington's sweat and arousal. A man's sweat and arousal. God, he'd missed this. He couldn't wait to get a taste. 

Harrington shifted above him. "You gonna suck me through my jeans or what?" he said. His voice had gone gravelly. 

"Or what," Billy said, giving the cock in his hand one final stroke to enjoy how it stiffened for him before he let go. He pulled Harrington's jeans and briefs down around his thighs and briefly wished there was a light in here. He'd love to see the pretty picture Harrington made. Then he focused. He had an apology to deliver. 

Billy started out slow: a hand to the base to steady Harrington's cock, which felt deliciously big, the other on Harrington's hip to steady himself, and several slow, steady licks up the length. The first drag of his tongue up the underside of the head won him a gasp and a tremble from Harrington, so Billy did it again, slower, and again, and felt Harrington's dick twitch. Hands pressed down on his shoulders, and Billy took the hint and got on with it. 

Harrington gasped again when Billy's lips closed around the head and he started to bob, slowly and shallowly at first. The weight of Harrington, the salty-skin taste of him, was making Billy's head spin and his own cock come to achingly hard life. He squeezed Harrington at the base and moved his head a little faster, sliding his tongue along that sensitive spot he'd discovered. He was rewarded with a little groan and a quickly aborted stutter of Harrington's hips. 

"God, you're actually good at this," Harrington gasped from above him. Billy sucked harder, and he grunted. "I expected you to be bad, but - I might actually believe you're sorry at this rate."

Billy took him deeper for that, meeting his hand with his mouth and then pulling back. He'd give Harrington the best damn apology blowjob Hawkins had ever seen. He'd make him bust down his throat. 

Harrington moaned a little when Billy sucked on the head again before diving back in as deep as he could reach. His hands left Billy's shoulders and made it to his head, sliding through the crunch of hairspray to yank. He let go, quickly, but not before Billy had had to stifle a moan by taking Harrington deeper, trying to swallow him down - not easy after months out of practice. 

"Oh," Harrington gasped, surprisingly high-pitched, "yeah, like that." There was a thunk, like his head hitting the wall. "I'm gonna fuck your face, Hargrove."

Billy could have pushed him away if he wanted. But he was burning up with the reality of Harrington putting him on his knees when he'd fantasized about it so often, with the heft of his cock and the smell of him, with the way it made arousal coil warm in his gut when Harrington bossed him around, so instead, he moved the hand around Harrington's cock to his other hip, freeing the full length of it to go down his throat.

Harrington groaned. "Yeah, that's it," he said, pulling Billy's hair again. "You're gonna take what I give you and you're gonna like it." He thrust a few times, shallowly, testing, before he pushed his way into the back of Billy's throat. 

Billy gagged. He couldn't help it. Harrington was long and thick enough to make his jaw ache. But he was right - Billy did like it, and so when Harrington tried to pull back, Billy leaned in, ignoring the sting in his scalp, and swallowed. 

"Ohhhhhhhh," Harrington moaned, at the feel of Billy's throat closing around him. "Yeah, that's good, Hargrove. God, your fucking mouth. Wanna stay here all night." 

Billy's fingers dug into his hips as Harrington let him up, giving him a second to breathe before he started rocking his dick in and out of Billy's mouth. He wanted it to last all night, despite the near-pain of his hard cock in his jeans, despite the ache in his throat and the tears in his eyes. This was the best he'd felt since Neil dragged him to Hawkins, and on the next pull back up, he played his tongue over Harrington's head, sucking extra hard. It was so good for him just having Harrington's dick in his mouth. 

Harrington moaned again and started to thrust faster. "You've got me so fucking close," he panted. "You're such a good cocksucker. I'm gonna come down your fucking throat." He shoved Billy's head down again. 

Goddamn right you are, Billy thought, relaxing his throat as much as he could. He wished he could see Harrington come. He wanted to picture his face when he jerked himself off. 

"Ah, ah, ah," Harrington gasped. His hips stuttered, his cock never quite leaving Billy's throat. "I'm fucking - I'm gonna -" He whined, and his dick twitched, and then he was spilling down Billy's throat. 

Billy swallowed it all - not that he could help it in this position - before pulling back. Harrington's hands had dropped to his shoulders when he came, and the other boy let him sit back to breathe without a struggle. Harrington sounded like he was having a little trouble getting it together, and his heaving pants were making Billy's dick leak inside his jeans. 

"Jesus," Harrington finally said, and Billy heard the noises of him finally putting his cock away. "Guess you really are sorry." He opened the shed door and slipped back into the party, leaving Billy achingly hard and still on his knees.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so, this one got kind out out of control on me. Thusly, it's been split into three chapters, in the interests of not having a 15k word chapter. This one is mostly porn and I've added some tags to reflect that.

It was two days before Billy saw Harrington again. He was up on the lifeguard stand at the pool, mid-afternoon on a busy Saturday, trying to pretend like all the screaming didn't give him a splitting headache as he looked around for an opportunity to blow his whistle. There were enough moms around that no kids were running, though, just splashing and a little shoving. Nothing he could call out yet.

Harrington walked in like a breath of fresh air, and Billy tried not to straighten, not to follow him with his eyes as he made his way across the pool deck. Harrington must have come straight from the country club or something, because he was in a pink polo that was tight across the arms tucked into the tiniest pair of Madras shorts Billy had ever seen. And fucking penny loafers without socks, of course, but Billy took a while to get down there. He was stuck on the shorts and how high they rode up on Harrington's thighs, how closely they cupped his ass and hips.

Penny loafers weren't pool safe, of course, and Billy half expected Harrington to slip on the wet deck. Before he could blow his whistle, though, Harrington was standing beside him. He had a firm, determined look on his face, and it was so close to the way he'd looked at the party that Billy's stomach - not to mention his dick - leaped. He slouched further down into his chair and tried to come up with something witty to say that didn't involve mentioning his outfit (or, well, not too much). Harrington beat him to it, though.

"Can we talk?" he said, looking like he wished he could fidget.

Billy's heart started beating double time. At best, he figured, he was going to get some kind of "I'm not queer and please don't tell anyone" brush-off. He didn't think Harrington was going to out him - he wouldn't be taking this private if he wanted to do that. Still, the possibilities made his stomach roil.

He checked his watch. "Good timing," he said. "I'm about due for a break." He waved down Heather and slid off the stand. Whatever was coming, it wouldn't get any better by putting it off.

There wasn't much privacy at a public pool - wasn't even a break room or separate change area for employees. So Billy led Harrington to the small building where they kept the pool chemicals and the first aid kit. It should be private enough for whatever Harrington had to say. Billy shut the door, turned on the light, and waited.

Harrington had lost the determined look somewhere along the way, and now he just looked tired. He wouldn't look directly at Billy, studying his shoes, his hands, and the wall behind Billy's head by turns.

"The other night," he started, "at the party." He stopped and swallowed. "I was… pretty drunk."

"Uh-huh," Billy said, arms crossed.

"I wouldn't… do something like that, normally," Harrington said. "Not that it's an excuse, I fucked up and you didn't deserve that, I'm just letting you know. You don't have to worry about that kind of thing again." He finally looked Billy in the eye.

"Worry about what?" Billy asked. This wasn't any queer regret speech he'd ever gotten before.

Harrington made a funny little grimace. "About me, y'know. Making you do shit."

Billy laughed. He couldn't help it. This was so far from what he'd thought he was walking into. Harrington thought he'd, what, forced Billy to suck his cock? "Harrington, let me ask you a question," he said.

"Yeah?"

"You remember November, right?" At Harrington's wary nod, he said, "So what the hell makes you think you could make me do anything?"

"It's not just about being stronger," Harrington said, a stubborn jut to his lips. "You were trying to apologize, and I, I took advantage of the situation," he said.

Billy sighed. He didn't plan about letting on about this, but Harrington thinking he'd raped him or whatever at the party wouldn't fly. "Look. That blowjob was some of the best sex I've had since I moved to this shithole," he said. He didn't mention that he'd jerked off to the memory about five times already. "I don't fucking regret it. You shouldn't either."

Hartington stood there for a moment with his mouth slightly open. "Oh," he said, and ran his hands through his hair. "Oh," he said again, and straightened up.

"Yeah, oh," Billy mocked. "Now, if that's all, we used up ten minutes of my break with this shit and -"

"Would you wanna do it again?" Harrington interrupted him.

Billy stared at him. "Would I…" he trailed off. Did he really hear that right?

"Would you want to do it again. Hook up with me, I mean. I'll, uh. I'll do something for you, too, I swear," Harrington said earnestly, as if he thought there was a chance Billy wouldn't jump on that no matter what the conditions were.

"Okay," he said. His heartbeat had picked up again, but with excitement this time.

"Okay," Harrington repeated. He hesitated a moment. Then he grinned and pushed Billy up against the wall.

"How much time is left on your break?" he asked, so close Billy could feel each word across his lips.

"Fifteen?" Billy gritted out. Harrington was so goddamn close, skin against skin below both of their shorts and polo rough against the sensitized skin of Billy's chest. This wasn't the lunch break he'd been expecting.

"Hmm," Harrington sighed. "Wish we had a little more time." He bit Billy's neck, a lightning fast sting that just fuelled his arousal, and then dropped to his knees.

Billy breathed in a shaky gasp as Harrington pulled his shorts down around his thighs. He felt off balance, head spinning, and he couldn't look away. Harrington leaned in and breathed lightly on his cock, which was already embarrassingly hard. By the glint in Harrington's eyes, he liked it.

"Don't come," he murmured, and sucked Billy down.

Billy grabbed at the wall and had to look up at the ceiling, chest heaving. Harrington had definitely sucked a dick or two before, he thought dizzily. God, it made him hot. King fuckin' Steve, secret cocksucker. Then Harrington started to bob his head a little faster, and thoughts pretty much left Billy's head.

It was just so good, being wrapped up in a warm, wet mouth that meant business. The wet smacking noises, Harrington's little gasping breaths between sucks, the sounds of people walking by, people who had no idea Harrington was sucking Billy off like it was his job - it all wound Billy up higher. His hands landed on Harrington's shoulders and he looked down. Then he had to stifle a whine. Harrington's mouth was red and wet around him, but those big brown eyes were on Billy with a pressure so intense he could feel it like a touch. And he was hard in those little shorts. Billy gasped again and let his mouth hang open and his hips twitch.

"You're so - you're so fuckin' good at this," he panted. "Gonna fuckin' -" Then he did whine, because Harrington had pulled off and squeezed his balls, just this side of too firm to feel good.

"Told you not to come, didn't I?" he murmured to Billy's pleading expression.

"Yeah," Billy muttered. He wasn't happy about it, though, dick cold with drying spit and aching to be back in Harrington's warm, welcoming mouth.

Harrington blew a stream of cool air over Billy's dick and laughed when he cursed and twitched. "No, really," he said. "Don't. Come." He punctuated each word with a kiss to Billy's dick. Then he put his mouth on him again.

This time, Billy watched the whole process. Watched how Harrington's plush pink lips stretched as he sunk down, how he cupped Billy's balls delicately, how he gave him a little squeeze at the base when his mouth met his hand before pulling back up. Billy's dick was shiny with his spit when Harrington pulled back so only the head was still in his mouth, and Billy outright whimpered at the way he ran his tongue over the head over and over: delicately, but relentless.

"Shh," Harrington said, pulling off briefly. "Don't want anyone to overhear, do we?"

Billy put a hand over his mouth in answer, and Harrington winked at him before getting back to it.

It was an embarrassingly short time before Billy had to take his hand away and pat at Harrington's shoulders. "Close," he gritted out. He could have cried when Harrington pulled off and pressed a kiss to the tip of his cock.

"Good," he said. He patted his hip and tucked Billy back into his shorts. "I'll give you some time to get yourself together," he said. "Come find me later, huh?" Then he got up off his knees, squeezed Billy's hard-on through his shorts, and left. Distantly, Billy heard Heather blowing her whistle. Maybe it was for Harrington's goddamn penny loafers.

It was only after he'd calmed down enough to walk to the locker room and wolf down his lunch in the five minutes he had left that he found the phone number tucked into his waistband.

  


* * *

  


Billy called him, of course. After spending the last half of his shift flushed and trying not to squirm, there was no way he wasn't. He didn't touch himself, either, even though he was dying to get off. Harrington hadn't told him not to, but it seemed against the spirit of whatever game they were playing. They agreed to meet at the mall the next day around closing, since Billy got every other Sunday off.

Neil asked him at dinner that night why he was acting like he had ants in his pants. Billy had to palm him off with some lie about a party, heart in his throat. Neil squinted at him, but seemed to buy it. Not that he would have done much besides raise his voice at the dinner table anyway, but Billy changed his clothes and got the hell out of there as fast as he could anyway. He could put the finishing touches on his hair in the car.

Billy slid into Scoops about five minutes before closing. Harrington was the only one still there, and it looked like he'd started all the cleanup shit already. Hawkins shut down early compared to California on a Sunday, even in the summer, and Billy wouldn't be surprised if the Camaro was the only non-employee car left in the lot.

Harrington looked pleased to see him, at least. And the uniform… It looked like something out of the porn Billy tucked away under the Camaro's floor mats, rather than the stuff he left for his dad to find. Billy swallowed hard and rang the bell, like the worst kind of obnoxious customer.

"You know, I saw you walk in," Harrington told him. "You don't have to be a shit about it."

Billy grinned at him, licking his lips. "Don't I?" he said.

"You don't," Harrington said, and walked around Billy to roll down the front grate like the rest of the stores.

Billy lounged back against the counter, following Harrington with his eyes. He knew he looked good, in tight cutoffs and the white shirt he normally lifted in. He adjusted his hips so the bulge of his half-hard cock was on display when Harrington turned back around.

He was clearly trying to act cool, but Billy saw him bite his pouty pink lips as he took in the pretty picture Billy made. "Straight to it, huh?" he murmured, as he walked back over to Billy.

"Uh-huh," Billy said. "I don't fuck around when it comes to pretty boys like you."

"Good," Harrington said. He leaned in over Billy, caging him in with his arms. Billy was starting to think he had a thing for pushing his lovers up against something. Well, he wasn't going to complain about it.

Harrington hovered over him for a moment, and then took him by the wrist. "Not here," he said. "People will start coming out of the other stores soon." He pulled Billy up and guided him into the back room.

Billy didn't get much of a chance to take in the decor or whatever, because as soon as they were in private, Harrington was all over him. He slipped a hand inside the deep-cut armhole of Billy's shirt and gave his pec a good squeeze, humming a little in pleasure. Then he got all up in Billy's space, pressing that tall, lean body all over him, and hesitated for a long moment over Billy's mouth again. Billy held his breath and curled his fingers into his palms, wishing for it so hard he half thought Harrington could hear it; then Harrington leaned in that last bit and kissed him.

It was sloppy, objectively, and wet, but fuck, cocksucking wasn't Harrington's only oral talent. His lips moved against Billy's, slowly but firmly, and when he opened his mouth enough to take Billy's bottom lip in his teeth, Billy gasped into his mouth.

Harrington laughed a little and slid his hand into Billy's carefully arranged hair before letting go. Billy sucked on his tongue and grabbed two handfuls of Harrington's shirt, pulling him closer so their dicks could grind together. He was all but panting into Harrington's mouth.

Harrington ground up against him just as enthusiastically, sliding a hand up the outside of Billy's thigh. He broke away, but only to press a series of stinging bites to Billy's ear and jaw.

"Can I leave a mark?" he panted into Billy's ear.

It was probably a bad idea, but his dad thought he was out hooking up anyway, so fuck it. Billy really wanted to press his fingers into bruises Harrington had left on him. "Yeah, yeah, sure," he gasped out.

Harrington kissed him again, quickly but deeply, and then licked his way down Billy's neck until he hit his shirt collar. "Take this off," he rasped, yanking at it.

"Gotta give me some space," Billy said breathlessly. Harrington scowled but backed off enough that Billy could squirm out of his shirt.

Then - oh, and then - he pressed his teeth to Billy's collarbone and bit hard enough Billy knew it was already flushing red, that it would be filling in with dark blood on his drive back home. Billy moaned and ground his hips into Harrington harder. He ran his hands up and down Harrington's back, frustrated with the lack of skin, and shoved the back of Harrington's shirt up so he could feel those lovely back muscles, at least. Then Harrington started sucking a hickey right on the base of his neck, below his Adam's apple, and he couldn't help but dig his nails in as he moaned again.

"Like that, huh?" Harrington asked against his neck.

"Yeah. Fuck yeah," Billy panted. He shoved at Harrington's shirt again. "Take this off?"

Harrington leaned back, but not to take his shirt off, to Billy's disappointment. "Actually, I had something in mind when I asked you here, and it kind of involves the uniform," he said casually. "You ever eat a guy out?"

Billy went hot all over and his cock twitched. Jesus, Harrington knew how to push his buttons. "Yeah, but just the once," he said.

Harrington looked pleased. "Good enough," he said. "So I was thinking, you bend me over that table over there, yank my shorts down, and do it just like I like it. I'll tell you how. And if you do it real good, you can come down my throat. How does that sound?"

"Sounds like you've had too much time to come up with jerkoff scenarios," Billy said, but he knew his face was too red and his breathing too heavy to pretend the image didn't affect him. Sounded like Harrington had pulled a fantasy straight out of Billy's spank bank.

Harrington shrugged. "Gonna be a long summer, scooping ice cream for screaming kids," he said. "I want something good to think about when I come back here."

Billy nodded. He sure as hell would be thinking about that aborted blowjob every time he saw that dinky shed. He grabbed a good handful of Harrington's ass - muscular, with a satisfying roundness that Billy itched to sink his teeth into - and then slapped it. "All right, sailor," he said, "spread 'em."

Harrington looked at him with those big, dark eyes. "I want you to make me," he said quietly. "I want you to shove me down and eat my ass like you're starving for it."

Billy groaned and pulled him in for another kiss, hard and sloppy with spit. When they pulled away, he mumbled into Harrington's mouth, "I fucking _am_." Then he grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him away, spinning him around and frog-marching towards the table.

"This what you want to think about all summer, huh?" Billy said, grabbing Harrington's wrists in one hand. "My tongue up your ass?" He shoved him facedown on the table and ground his cock against Harrington's ass. Harrington's arms came loose, but he just braced himself enough that he could grind back, groaning.

"Yes," he said. "Fucking lick me already, Hargrove, christ."

"Fucking bossy, aren't you?" Billy said, but he was already pushing Harrington back down and yanking those little blue shorts down around his knees.

"Like you don't like it," Harrington said. He spread his legs as much as he could - which wasn't much, all tangled up.

"Not as much as you're gonna like this," Billy said. He gave Harrington's ass a good slap on the other side this time, pushed down on his back again, and knelt down to get face to face with those nice round little cheeks.

Harrington sucked in a little breath and went quiet when Billy breathed deliberately on his crack. Billy's mouth watered, and he did take a good bite out of one side - prompting a breathless little "ah!" from Harrington up above him. Then he pulled Harrington's hands down to his ass and told him, "Keep those spread for me, huh?" Not waiting for a reply, he shoved his face in and licked a broad stripe across Harrington's hole.

Harrington moaned, and Billy could feel his fingers clench on the globes of his ass. Harrington tasted a little like sweat, but the cold of an ice cream shop was good for something, and mostly, he tasted like skin and sex. Billy set up a rhythm, licking long paths from Harrington's taint to his tailbone and alternating them with little kitten licks right over his hole. Harrington was breathing deeper, faster above him, and Billy licked him harder. His soft little hole fluttered under Billy's tongue, and Billy shoved the very tip of his tongue in on the next pass.

That got him an outright whine, so he changed it up a bit, licking circles around Harrington's hole and placing sucking kisses on the rim. Which Harrington liked a lot, apparently - he was shoving his hips back into Billy's face, hard, and panting. When Billy wiggled his tongue inside again, Harrington moaned so loud Billy put one hand on his cockhead, to see if he'd come yet.

"You're so fucking good," Harrington said, whining at the touch of Billy's hand. "God, you're licking me just right. Give me a finger, baby, fuck me with it."

Billy sucked his middle finger til it was sopping and circled it around Harrington's hole. "This what you want?" he asked, voice hoarse with arousal. God, he was so hard he was leaking. If Harrington didn't let him get off after this, he might die.

"Fuck yes," Harrington said, hips jerking, trying to force Billy's finger inside. "Give it to me, now!"

The demand just made Billy hotter. He sunk his finger inside Harrington slow, pumping it in and out and tugging at his puffy rim a couple of times, before he got it all the way in and pushed in next to it with his tongue. Jesus, Harrington was so hot inside. And so fucking sensitive here. It made Billy dizzy.

Harrington whined again. "You got me so fucking close, you're doing so good," he said. "Fuck me with it, find my sweet spot." He shoved a hand against the table, jerking his cock fast and hard. He had to let one cheek go to do it, but that was fine; Billy wasn't moving until he made Harrington come so hard he saw stars, no matter what he had to do.

He shoved his finger in deeper, curling it. He knew he'd found the magic button when Harrington let out a long, wavering cry and jerked backwards. Billy's wrist hurt from the position, but he finger fucked Harrington as hard as he could, licking circles around the rim. Harrington's hole fluttered, and he stiffened. "Fuck fuck _fuck,_" he said, in a strained voice, and came.

Billy pulled back as Harrington heaved in breaths on the table above him. His face was hot and red and his chin was sticky with spit and he didn't think he'd ever been harder in his life. He could feel his pulse in his cock and in his balls. Jesus, there was a wet spot on the front of his jeans where he'd been leaking. He was getting off tonight, no matter what the fuck Harrington had said. He gave himself a surreptitious squeeze.

Of course, that was the moment when Harrington got himself together enough to sit up and look over his shoulder at him. Billy jerked his hand away, but Harrington had seen, he knew it.

"I'm gonna let that go," Harrington said, "because my legs feel like goddamn jello." With what looked like a heroic effort, he pulled his shorts and underwear up and turned around. Then he grinned at Billy, still flushed and sweating. "Good thing I don't need those to suck your brain out through your dick, huh?"

"Good thing," Billy managed. Now that he wasn't wrapped up in eating Harrington out, he was aware that he was so close to coming all it would take was one good touch to his naked cock. He took a few deep breaths, and in the interest of buying some time to calm down, asked, "So it was good enough for you?"

"Oh, yeah," Harrington said, a dreamy look in his eyes. "I haven't been rimmed that good in more than a year."

Billy kind of wanted to ask who the fuck was eating his ass before, but it was none of his fucking business. Instead he said, "I'm pretty good with my tongue," and smirked.

"I fucking noticed," Harrington said, and smirked right back. "Ditch the clothes and get over here."

Billy probably should have protested the idea of being buck naked in the back room of a food court stall, but he was so desperate to come he just didn't care. There was a closed door between him and the rest of the mall, and he liked being naked anyway. So he pushed off his shorts and shoes and walked over.

Harrington pulled him into another toe-curler of a kiss, biting hard on his bottom lip. Billy hadn't thought he would, after where his mouth had been, but he wasn't complaining. He clutched Harrington's shoulders and hung on for the ride.

After a long moment, Harrington broke away. He shoved on Billy's shoulders until he was sitting on the table. "If your knees don't give out when I do this, I'm out of practice," he said. Then he took Billy's cock in hand and knelt down.

Billy wasn't going to say it, but just being able to see Harrington between his thighs this time already made his knees weak. This wasn't going to take much work.

Harrington jacked him a couple of times, slow and soft. The rasp of callouses on his palm was so good. He was staring at Billy as he did, but then he leaned in to suck a deep, dark hickey just to the left of Billy's cock. Billy jerked, panting, as Harrington fondled his balls in the other hand.

"You gonna play around down there all day?" he asked. His voice shook. He wasn't fooling either of them.

"Just might," Harrington said, a wicked twinkle in his velvety eyes. He licked at the root of Billy's cock before taking one of his balls into his mouth. All the while, he stroked Billy, just as slow as before. Just too light to do anything but tease.

Billy swore. He was so worked up all of this was getting him closer, but it might take an hour for him to come at this rate. "God, I thought you were going to suck me, not - ah! - fucking torture me," he said. "Do you want me to beg for it, or what?"

Harrington let his sack slip out of his mouth, and looked at Billy contemplatively. "Yeah, Hargrove," he said, punctuating it with a squeeze and a sudden vicious twist over the head, "I think I do. I want you to beg me to suck your cock."

"_Please_," Billy said without hesitation. His cock was throbbing and his balls ached. He was so close. He'd say anything to get Harrington to put his dick in his mouth properly. "Pretty fucking please, suck my cock."

"Oh, that's nice," Harrington said, and rewarded Billy with a long lick all the way up the length that left him gasping. "One more time, huh? Show me you mean it."

"Please, put my fucking dick in your mouth, please!" Billy said, squirming, practically shouting. His hands were clenched on the edge of the table.

"All you had to do was ask," Harrington said, and swallowed him down for real.

Billy threw his head back. It was so much after all the teasing - the warmth and suction, the little sounds of satisfaction Harrington made as he went down. He wasn't going to last long. He squeezed his eyes shut.

"Fuck, shit," he gasped out. "I fucking love your mouth." His hips bucked, out of his control for a moment, overwhelmed by how good it was, until he made himself stop. "Sorry," he said. He'd do anything to keep that delicious suction on his cock.

Harrington hummed around him and guided one of Billy's hands to his hair. Then he put both his hands on Billy's ass. When Billy looked down, trying to figure out if this meant what he thought it did, Harrington winked. Oh, shit yes. It did.

Billy let himself go. He shoved Harrington's head down and thrust into his mouth, panting. "Ohhhh, fuck," he said. "Gonna fuck your mouth good." God, that was the head of his dick popping into Harrington's throat. He could feel the muscles working around him in little squeezes as Harrington gulped. Shit shit shit. It burned Billy up inside.

Harrington met his gaze and relaxed into everything Billy was doing. It felt so goddamn good. He wasn't going to last. He couldn't hold out against something like this - Harrington on his knees, lips and throat distended around his dick, staring up at him and waiting for him to come.

"Gonna - gonna fucking come down your throat, pretty boy," he groaned. "Hope you're ready." He shoved his way in as deep as he could - shit, those little squeezes - and froze, moaning, as he came.

He read some stupid thing in the library one time that pigs came for ten minutes or some shit. This felt like it lasted that long and then some. Fucking sparks flashed across Billy's vision as he emptied himself down Harrington's throat. His fucking palms tingled. When he could see again, he slumped over and let go of the death grip he had in Harrington's hair.

Harrington pulled back. There wasn't any spillover to worry about, seeing as Billy had been as deep as he could go, but his lips were swollen and his eyes were wet. Still, he grinned up at Billy and asked him in a hoarse, fucked-out voice, "Knees still there?"

"I'll tell you when I can feel them," Billy said honestly. "Goddamn."

"Yeah," Harrington agreed. He stood up and tossed Billy's clothes at him. "I gotta wipe that table down, get up."

"Fuckin' romantic," Billy said, rolling his eyes. Fuck, his legs were shaking. He struggled into his clothes and stood up.

"You know I treat you right, Hargrove," Harrington said, his tongue between his teeth.

Billy checked the clock. "Fuck, that took longer than I thought," he said. "I gotta get home."

"Fuck, me too," Harrington said. "I could go to sleep right here." He smirked at Billy. "You should call me again sometime, Hargrove. I've got some more ideas."

"They all better be this good," Billy said, tongue out and grinning.

"Oh, they will be," Harrington said.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New tags: recreational drug use, frottage, porn with feelings
> 
> Also, a heads up that this chapter and the next are where the child abuse tag really comes into play.

Heather - the one he worked with, not Heather Chandler or the Heather with glasses - wanted to know what the fuck he'd been doing all weekend when he came to take over her shift on Monday.

"Getting laid, what's it look like?" Billy asked. The hickey on his neck was dark and mottled today, and the bite marks were speckled with blue.

"A good lay, too," Heather said, looking him up and down. "You're not so wound up."

Billy bristled. "I wasn't wound up," he said. A little jittery about the summer, maybe, but not wound up.

"Uh-huh," Heather said. "Well, who was it? Most girls would kill to say they'd fucked around with you, but I haven't heard anything. Dish, Hargrove." She smiled at him.

Billy felt a cold sliver of panic slide its way into his veins, but he kept his face smooth and took a discreet deep breath. "Why, you jealous?" He gave her his best flirty smirk.

Heather rolled her eyes, but there was a smile lurking at the corner of her mouth. "Hardly. I just miss having Carol around to feed me juicy tidbits."

"Well, you won't get shit from me," Billy said. "I'm pretty sure she wouldn't hook up with me any more if I let it slip who she was, and I have my priorities." He shrugged.

"What kind of girl isn't dying to brag about you?" Heather asked. She sounded casual but Billy could see the inquisitive look on her face.

"The kind that's already with someone," Billy snapped out, making sure to sound like he hadn't meant to say it. He closed his mouth with a click of teeth and looked at Heather with deliberately wide eyes.

"Oh," she said. "That would do it." Her eyes were bright with concern. Maybe some satisfaction that she'd got him to crack. Hopefully it would be juicy enough to get her off his back.

Billy shrugged and played at fake-casual. "Yeah," he said. "Now if you're done with the Spanish Inquisition, can I get up there already?"

"Impatient much?" Heather said, but she climbed down. "Don't drive the moms too crazy up here."

"Only when you stop giving the middle schoolers their first boners," he shot back.

"That's their problem," Heather said. She was kind of a bitch. Billy liked her.

* * *

Harrington couldn't meet again until Wednesday. That was fine. Billy had the memories and the bruises to jerk off to. Probably best to give Neil a few days of the responsible son act before he went off for half the night again anyway. So Billy did his chores, went to work, carted Max around, and kept his head down. He guessed he passed muster, because come Wednesday night he got out of the house with the bare minimum of stink-eye and lecturing. Neil must have really believed he was going on a date with the "girl" he'd hooked up with at the party on Sunday.

They hadn't really talked details on the phone, but Billy gathered Harrington's parents weren't home, so they'd agreed that Billy would come pick him up - "I didn't think you'd agree to let me drive you around," Harrington had said. Billy had briefly wondered why they weren't hooking up inside there instead of going wherever they were going, but then he dismissed it. Six months of basketball practice aside, he didn't really know much about Harrington beyond how he sounded when he came, and Billy had only just apologized for beating the shit out of him a few days ago. He wouldn't trust himself inside that nice house either. It was a miracle Harrington trusted him enough for this.

Billy hit the horn twice when he pulled up. Harrington came out of the house in tight jeans and the first sleeveless shirt Billy had ever seen him wear - a worn-thin Hawkins Basketball shirt he'd cut the sleeves off of, just short enough that the hem flirted with showing Billy flashes of lean stomach as he walked toward the Camaro. It was a good look, but Billy almost felt overdressed in comparison.

"You clean up nice," Harrington said, grinning at Billy with his tongue between his teeth as he got into the car.

"Dad was in a mood so I told him I had a date," Billy muttered, looking somewhere to the left of Harrington's ear. "Was the only way I could get away. Had to look the part." He was wearing the same short-sleeved unbuttoned red shirt as - as he was that night he went to get Max, Billy realized. Jesus. "Shit, I didn't think -"

"Relax," Harrington interrupted. "I was serious. Forget the history. It's a good look." His eyes glittered as he gave Billy and his exposed chest an obvious once over.

Billy bit his tongue. "Yours isn't half bad either," he said, letting his gaze linger on the muscles in Harrington's arms. "So where we going?"

Harrington grinned and pulled a little baggie out of his pocket. "Feel like hotboxing the car?" he asked.

"Fuck yeah," Billy said. It wasn't exactly what he'd pictured for tonight, but he was always up to get fucked up. And who knew? Maybe they'd go parking or something later.

"All right then, just drive," Harrington said. "I'll roll."

"Sure you can while you're riding with me?" Billy said doubtfully, not pulling out of the driveway yet. "Maybe you should start it right here and we'll spark up once we get going."

Harrington turned to look at him. "Who the fuck do you think I am, Hargrove?" he said. "I can roll a joint while _I'm_ fucking driving. You'll see."

"You're picking the bud out of my seats if you're wrong," Billy said, putting the car into gear.

"I don't waste fucking weed," Harrington said. "Do your worst."

Billy could do that. Any excuse to put the Camaro through her paces. He whipped out of the neighborhood with a screech of tires, heading for some of the winding back roads he'd found driving around the edges of Hawkins where he could really open up. When he glanced over, Harrington was laughing.

He kind of got lost in the sound of the engine, the way it roared as he put his foot down and the vibrations of the beautiful machine beneath him. The Camaro was a beast and he loved every bit of her. He was almost surprised when skunky smoke started to fill the interior. When he looked over again, Harrington was leaned up against the seat, taking a massive toke off the very nice joint he'd rolled. When he saw Billy looking, he held his breath and passed the pot over.

It was primo weed. Billy slowed down a little and headed for a slightly more predictable road; he wasn't going to get high enough he couldn't drive, but he would need one hand for the spliff now, and the curves really needed both hands on the wheel. He passed it back over when he saw Harrington exhale.

"Good shit," he said, voice strained from holding the smoke in.

"Buy it from a guy who grows it out back here somewhere," Harrington said. "Think the chief buys from him too, that's how he keeps from getting arrested."

Billy burst out laughing. The idea of Chief Hopper, who he'd seen a time or two with a cigarette clenched in his teeth around town, buying pot from a backwoods farmer was just too good. "Are you fucking kidding me?" he said.

Harrington passed the joint back to him. "No," he said. "I'm dead serious. Saw his truck one time when I went down to buy. I parked in the woods and waited for him to leave, but he didn't arrest Greg or whatever, so what else was he doing down there?"

Billy hit it and then passed it back. It was almost done now. "Does this Greg guy farm anything other than pot?" he asked.

"He keeps bees," Harrington said, nose wrinkled. "I think he sells the honey, but it's pot honey, right? So that's just as bad."

"I'm pretty sure that's not how it works," Billy said, although it would be badass if it did.

The resulting argument got them through that joint and the next, and Billy was feeling warm, heavy, and pleasantly foggy when Harrington said, "Fuck, I'm hungry. Where the fuck are we?" He peered around.

"US 40," Billy said. He hasn't been paying much attention to how far out they were, but that much he knew.

"Oh shit, we're almost to Marion," Harrington said. "There's a McDonald's in Marion. You want a burger?"

Now that Harrington mentioned it, Billy was getting the munchies pretty bad. "Lead the way, pretty boy," he said.

They rolled the windows down all the way there, to clear the pot smoke out of the Camaro. Not that it mattered. Apparently Marion closed up as early as Hawkins, and the McDonald's was dark and deserted when they got there. Billy thumped his head against the back of his seat and lit a cigarette to smoke away his disappointment.

After a minute or so of this, Harrington brightened next to him. "Just remembered something," he said. "I'll be right back." He got out of the car and jogged down the street.

He was back soon, carrying a paper bag and two floats. Billy eyed it all when Harrington got back in.

"Aren't you sick of ice cream by now?" he asked.

"I will be soon, but not yet," Harrington said. "Besides, this isn't Scoops ice cream. It's better. They've got an old fashioned druggist here and they were still open." He passed one of the floats to Billy.

He had to admit, it was pretty fucking good. Especially since the smoke had dried out his mouth and throat. He was done before he knew it.

"Wanna smoke one more joint and head out?" he asked Harrington.

"Don't you want to do something fun, since we drove all this way?" Harrington asked.

Billy laughed. "What, hotboxing not fun enough for you?" He had actually enjoyed himself, cruising around, getting high and shooting the shit.

"Yeah, but it's not exactly why I wanted to meet up with you," Harrington said. When Billy turned to look at him, his lips were wrapped around his float straw obscenely. Then he ruined the image by winking, and Billy laughed again. He always got so giggly and loose when he was high.

"What, you wanna fuck in a McDonald's parking lot?" Billy asked. It was far enough away from Hawkins he might just be willing to risk it.

"Nah," Harrington said. "Come on, I'll show you."

Billy got out of the car. Following Harrington around had ended up well for him so far. Wasn't like he couldn't bail if this got weird.

Turns out this was a small enough town that the employee door on the McDonald's was unlocked. Billy looked at Harrington in disbelief. "You wanna fuck inside the McDonald's? That's kind of nasty."

"No, I want to fuck in the playplace," Harrington said, leading him through the restaurant. "I used to take girls here sometimes if they seemed like they'd be cool with it. Squeezing into those little tunnels is kind of sexy when you're doing it together."

Billy felt a hot lash of jealousy at that. Any plans he had to suggest they should get out of here and get acquainted with the back seat of the Camaro instead evaporated. Instead he said, "Well, that just sounds like the easy way. You ever tried doing it in the ball pit instead?"

"The ball pit?" Harrington sounded surprised, but not uninterested. "No, but there's a first time for everything. You wanna?" He grinned at Billy.

Billy grinned right back. "Better get naked now, Harrington," he advised as he stripped down. "Something gets lost in that ball pit, it's gone forever."

Harrington laughed. "Wouldn't want some kindergartener finding my underwear," he agreed.

"Ugh." Billy made a face. "Not a great way to set the mood."

"Sorry, you're right," Harrington said. He was all the way undressed now, a fact he demonstrated by reeling Billy in and pressing himself against him, skin to skin. "Is this better?"

"Not as good as this would be," Billy said, and kissed him.

They were both still high, so it wasn't a very good kiss, objectively - too much tongue, not enough lips - but it felt good, with his brain all soft and buzzy, to lick every bit of Harrington's mouth he could reach. Billy had the crazy thought that it was like marking Harrington's mouth out as his, if he could just get enough of his own spit in there. Maybe the next person Harrington kissed would taste the Billy Hargrove on him and know. It made Billy's face tingle with heat, and he sighed, a little pleased noise, against Harrington's mouth.

It didn't take much to get him going like this. Pot made him horny no matter the circumstances, and a naked Steve Harrington kissing and rubbing on him was a hell of an incentive to get hard. Harrington's hands slipped down to his ass, and he ground his own rapidly-growing hard-on against Billy's even as he pulled out of the kiss to gasp for breath.

"A-plus mood setting, Hargrove," he said, squeezing one cheek for emphasis. "Now let's try out this grand idea of yours, huh?"

They broke apart to wade into the ball pit. It wasn't made for people their size and they both had to crouch down to crawl in, but once they were inside, it wasn't so bad, Billy thought. Smelled a little weird, but he could get over that. He laid back as much as he could and pulled Harrington on top of him and into another kiss.

Harrington was handsy and restless this time. If he wasn't tugging Billy's hair, he was feeling at the muscles of his arms and back, and if he wasn't doing that, he was scratching down Billy's side or trying to pinch his nipples. It wasn't bad, but Billy couldn't settle into the kiss, tense with anticipation for each new sensation. And the ball pit wasn't all that stable to begin with; Billy could feel himself sinking. When Harrington broke the kiss to mouth sloppily at his neck, he couldn't help himself. Billy started giggling.

"What's so fucking funny, huh?" Harrington mumbled, still occupied with the skin under his lips.

"We're fucking sinking," Billy laughed, "under _balls_." He snickered again. "It's too fucking Freudian."

Harrington looked a little lost, but he laughed too, a high, out of control cackle that seemed born of the pot more than anything. "It's pretty queer," he agreed. "Good job with that, Hargrove."

Billy kept laughing intermittently for a few minutes while they kissed and groped, but suddenly before he knew it, Harrington had a firm hold on his cock, and that took most of his attention.

"If you keep laughing while I'm touching you, I'm gonna get the wrong idea," Harrington breathed as he hovered over Billy, and punctuated it with a bite to his nipple.

Billy squirmed. "Think I'm done laughing now," he said in a hoarse voice.

"You sure?" Harrington asked. "I think we should make sure." He gave Billy a few more firm strokes and then let go to shove him up against the net wall, crowding close against him.

It was hard to get any kind of leverage, between scrabbling for footing among the balls and the give of the mesh behind Billy. Harrington must have paid attention to Billy's advice somewhere along the line, though, because he stood firm as Billy moved. His feet were clearly on the floor, and he didn't seem to feel like moving.

"Yeah, that's better," he said, feeling Billy struggle more than watching him, they were so close. "I don't think you're gonna laugh any more, huh?"

"Nope," Billy said. He was horny and sweaty and the furthest thing in the world from laughing, with Steve Harrington naked and powerful between his legs.

"My feelings are hurt, though," Harrington said, his hands still roving all over Billy. "From you laughing at me. I think you can make it up to me, though."

"Yeah? You want my mouth again?" Billy asked, trying not to seem too eager.

"No," Harrington said. "I think what I want is for you to wrap those nice legs around me and rub yourself off on my dick." He smirked. He clearly knew how much of a struggle that would be for Billy. Hell, it was probably most of the appeal.

Wrapping himself all around a pretty boy who was hard for him was never going to be an issue for Billy, though. He didn't mind doing all the work, either. The idea of Harrington just standing there, getting more and more flushed as Billy used him to get off? That was nice. That was real nice. Billy locked his ankles around Harrington's ass, hoisting himself up. "Okay," he said. "I can do that."

Harrington's dick was hot and hard against his own, and they were both wet, eager from the drugs and the enthusiastic makeout session. Billy's first efforts at a grind were still a little too dry, so he leaned down and let a gobbet of spit fall out of his mouth to land on both their cocks. He grabbed harder with his thighs so he could use one hand to jack them both together a couple times to spread it around, but once he started he found it hard to stop. The contrast of his dick - a very respectable size, but definitely smaller - next to Harrington's huge, pretty one was good, and watching his hand struggle to cover them both was better.

Harrington made a little disapproving noise. "Don't think that's what I asked you to do," he said. "Guess you don't want to make it up to me after all."

Billy let go of them both like he'd been burnt. "No, I do," he said. The pot was making him a little more emotional than normal. He didn't want to disappoint Harrington. He didn't want to normally, but now he felt like he might cry if he did. "Gimme one more try?"

Harrington fitted his teeth over one of Sunday's bite marks and bit again, vicious over the healing bruise. "One more," he agreed.

One more chance. Billy could work with that. He threw his head back and ground up against Harrington like a porn star. It wasn't hard. He wasn't faking anything. He was just letting it all show for once - how much he wanted to be right here, practically riding Harrington's dick in public, getting marked up and told what to do. The slide was so much better with the spit, and Billy worked his hips hard. The tip of his dick rubbed against Harrington's firm abs, and when their balls brushed each other as he moved, it was strangely intimate.

"Good, baby, that's real good," Harrington said into his ear, nipping at it. "Show me how much you like my dick."

Billy groaned and dug his nails in. "So much," he panted. "You feel so good up against me. So fucking big." He broke off, panting. His chest and belly were slick with sweat from arousal and effort and the close, sticky summer air. It gave the glide between their two cocks the smoothness it had been missing, and Billy started to jerk his hips, all rhythm gone. His muscles were shaking. His thigh was about to cramp up from being clenched so hard. The net was digging red welts into his skin. It didn't matter. He was about to come anyway.

"I'm close," he said into Harrington's ear. "Can I? Will you let me this time?"

Harrington groaned. "Yeah, you can," he said, "but you're gonna have to lick it off me if you do." His dick twitched against Billy's at the idea.

Billy felt his ears get a little redder. "Yeah, yeah, okay," he gasped. "Just not in here?" His hips were still moving in stiff little jerks. He couldn't keep them still no matter how much he tried to hold off.

"Deal," Harrington said. "Now fucking come. I wanna see you." He brushed his fingers over Billy's hole without warning.

That did it. Billy ground up against him one, two, three more times before he was whining and his cock spurted between them, getting them both messy, marking them both up. "Shit," he breathed. His thighs shook. He was reluctant to uncross his ankles and let Harrington go, but he had to. If he didn't, his legs would give out.

Harrington laughed breathlessly, stroking up and down Billy's arms as he calmed down. "That was a better idea than I thought," he said.

Billy waited a second to catch his breath before he nodded. "Yeah," he said. "Still not putting my mouth anywhere near these balls, though."

Harrington cracked up. "Don't worry, I've got another set you can play with," he snickered.

Billy laughed too. His legs felt like they'd hold him again, so he grabbed Harrington and pulled him towards the exit. "Well, what are you waiting for?" he asked.

"Not a damn thing," Harrington murmured. No sooner had he climbed out than Billy had shoved him up against the other side of that same flimsy net wall and dropped to his knees.

Come tasted like come, no matter what, and Billy was aware his wasn't the sweetest around. But he liked the way Harrington looked at him as he did this, and he liked what it meant - that Harrington had let him touch him, had told him to lose it all over him - so it was easy to lick it up like it was the best thing he'd ever tasted. Especially the splatters that had dripped down onto Harrington's eager dick. Billy spent the most time on those. Harrington's big eyes watched him the entire time. His chest was flushed and heaving above Billy, and when Billy's tongue passed over the dent in the muscle over his groin, his stomach twitched.

There wasn't a speck of come left when Billy finished, but there was a steady stream of precome leaking out of the tip of Harrington's dick. Billy flicked the tip of his tongue over it, lightning quick, and then looked up at Harrington to see if that was allowed.

"Mm," Harrington groaned, and one hand found the back of Billy's head, where he left it. "Yeah, baby. Give me your mouth, please." His eyes were dark.

Billy didn't need any more encouragement than that. He slid his mouth down around Harrington and sucked.

Harrington was more vocal than the last time they'd done this. All the little breathy noises he made as Billy was going down on him set a fire in his gut. Harrington's hands petted his hair as he pulled off to lick up and down the shaft, searching for sensitive spots he hadn't found yet.

"I used to think about your mouth," Harrington said, totally out of the blue, as Billy grazed him experimentally with his teeth. "Ah! Yes, that's good," he panted, so Billy did it again. Harrington rewarded him with a little moan this time, but Billy wanted to hear about whatever he had been saying, so he went back to sucking, starting up a steady rhythm.

Harrington rolled his head back against the netting for a moment before he took a deep breath and looked back down at Billy. "You look just like I thought you would," he murmured. "When you'd have your tongue out at practice. I thought about how it would look licking my cock." He gasped as Billy pulled back and did just that. He could follow instructions with the best of them.

"Ah, yeah," Harrington said, keeping his eyes on Billy's. "Knew you'd be good with it. I was so shocked when you went on your knees for me. Didn't think you swung that way. But I wanted it. I wanted you to make it up to me. Wanted you to suck me."

Billy swirled his tongue around the head, and then got as much of Harrington's cock in his mouth as he could fit without taking him down his throat. He met his mouth with his hand, but kept his eyes on Harrington. His own cock was stirring again, listening to these fantasies he'd had no idea about. Jesus, if he had, he might have sucked Harrington's cock right there in the locker room showers, rest of the team watching or not. He prayed Harrington would get the message and keep going.

"You know, the girl I'm working with wants to know why the break room makes me so antsy now," Harrington said, arching his back as Billy slowly pulled back and went down. He looked right back at Billy, though, like there were magnets connecting them. "I can't tell her it's because I got my favorite jerkoff fantasy of the last six months fulfilled right there. She'd be so grossed out. But every time I have to clean up after a screaming kid, I go back there and I forget all about it." He squirmed suddenly. "Oh Jesus, I'm so close. Put a finger in me again, please, please."

Billy pulled off to get a finger nice and wet, keeping his gaze on Harrington's face as he slid it in. "You should fuck my mouth again," he said to Harrington, watching those dark eyes go hazy with pleasure. He was all the way hard again and he wanted it bad. It had been so good last time, that thick pressure in his throat.

"Mm, yeah," Harrington sighed out. When Billy opened his mouth, he pushed in without hesitation.

It was just as much of a stretch as Billy remembered, but it was better, knowing now that Harrington had thought about him too, that he wasn't just the most convenient hookup in Hawkins. Jesus, of course he wasn't, but a man liked to be appreciated. And Harrington sure was appreciating him. He rocked back and forth, groaning, pushing back onto Billy's finger before thrusting hard into his mouth. Billy stroked him when he could, but most of his attention was split between watching Harrington's face and swallowing the thick length of him without choking or gagging.

"Ah, ah, ah, gonna come," Harrington gasped. He thrust harder, faster, more desperately for a few strokes. Billy could feel the twitching beneath his lips, and he swallowed encouragingly, curling his finger. That did it, and Harrington flooded his mouth and throat with come.

Billy swallowed it all before he pulled back, panting. His knees ached from this hard shitty floor and his cock was begging for attention, and Billy focused hard on those two things so he didn't say something stupid like, "did you mean it?" Harrington sounded sincere enough, and if he wasn't, the idea was still plenty hot. Who cared? (Billy did. He tried not to.)

Harrington tipped his head back down to look at Billy, and his attention clearly snagged on the hard-on between his legs. "Again?" he said, and he sounded anything but displeased.

"What can I say?" Billy said. "You tell a good dirty story, Harrington."

Harrington grinned and pulled Billy up. "Not just a story," he said, "but I'm glad you liked it." He spit on his hand and grabbed Billy's cock, jerking him like they had all the time in the world.

Billy hissed. He was halfway between oversensitive and desperate to come, and he almost wanted to push Harrington's hand away. At the same time, he didn't. His nerve endings were confused and screaming and the skin of his cock was almost raw from the earlier friction, but it felt so good at the same time. He dropped his head on Harrington's shoulder and just let it all wash over him, breathing in the scent of Harrington's sweat and his expensive cologne.

"That's it," Harrington murmured into his hair. "Let go. Let me do what I want with you, huh?" His hand tightened and twisted over the head, and Billy whined, squirming - into it? Away? He wasn't sure.

"Shh," Harrington said. "Let it happen. I know you can." He gave Billy a few more slow, gentle strokes, building the burning pleasure in the pit of his stomach, and walked his other hand down the crack of Billy's ass. Was he gonna get inside Billy? Billy sure goddamn hoped so.

"Do you like a finger in you when you come?" Harrington asked. "Can I?" When Billy nodded against his neck, he rewarded him by speeding up his hand just a bit. "Good. Thank you." He spit into his hand and prodded a finger at Billy's hole.

Billy groaned. How long had it been since someone else touched him like this? Too long. That long, lovely finger stroking him inside, combined with the steady pressure of Harrington's hand on his oversensitive cock, was hurtling him towards the edge.

Then Harrington found his sweet spot, and Billy almost cried out in pleasure. He shuddered and pushed back into the finger inside him.

"That's it, huh?" Harrington asked. "You're close. Come all over me again. Come on, do it." He prodded Billy's prostate almost viciously and jerked him harder.

Billy did. He gasped out some kind of inarticulate choking noise and striped his and Harrington's stomachs. Harrington stroked him through it and let Billy lean against him while he caught his breath, easing his finger out.

After a few heaving breaths, Billy pulled back to look at Harrington. "That more like the kind of fun you were thinking of?" he asked. His voice still had that blowjob rasp.

Harrington laughed. "Exactly like," he said.

* * *

"Why was your tank so much lower than it was last night?" Neil asked Billy at the breakfast table Thursday morning. "Must have done a bunch of driving on that date." His face was perfectly pleasant, but it always was right up until it wasn't. And Max wasn't there - Neil didn't like to let loose too much when she was there. But she was still asleep.

Billy felt his own face go blank. Under the table, where no one could see, he drummed his toes like he wished he could drum his fingers. "My date wanted us to go out kind of far," he said. "There's this druggist down US 40, does sodas and ice creams like they used to. Cheesy chick shit, but if that's what she wanted, I was gonna give it to her."

"Oh, that's romantic!" Susan interjected. "I had my first ever date at a drugstore like that. That was sweet of you to drive all that way." She glanced at Neil, sidelong, then smiled at Billy.

"Apologize to Susan for cursing at the table," Neil said, but he seemed mollified for now. Billy breathed out quietly and picked up his fork again. He guessed his dad thought that was too much even for two queers.

"Sorry, Susan. Thanks for breakfast," Billy said. He shoveled more egg into his mouth before his dad could demand anything else. When he finished, he asked, "May I be excused? I've got the opening shift today."

"Go on," his dad said, looking at his watch. "I have to leave soon myself."

In his room, Billy noticed his hands were shaking. He hadn't thought about the gas. He paid for it, and the insurance, and the Camaro itself, but Neil had insisted on a key to Billy's car during the drive from California - "in case you lose yours, son, we don't have time to wait for a locksmith" - and Billy had never been able to get it back. He knew Neil checked on the car, but this was the first time he'd brought it up, so Billy had almost forgotten the ways in which his only escape could have given him away. He controlled his breathing. If Neil had found any of the money, they would have had a very different conversation, and it wouldn't have been at breakfast. Still, Billy couldn't get ready for work fast enough.

He didn't actually have the opening shift, but he could find something to do at the pool for an hour while he waited. It didn't matter. Billy had to get somewhere where he could check the money stash in the car.

His hands didn't stop shaking all the way to the public pool. He parked in an out-of-the way corner shielded by Heather's car - she actually did open - and opened the glovebox before disconnecting the arm keeping it in. It fell forward, and he took in a deep breath before feeling around the top of the revealed space.

The envelope was still there and the seal hadn't been broken. Billy threw his head back and laughed with relief. His whole body felt light. He didn't even care when Heather told him he could take the early morning swim lessons, if he wanted to do something so bad. It was kind of nice, actually. All the little kids wanted from him was to be told they were doing good when they figured out how to float.

* * *

Neil scared Billy. He wasn't afraid to admit it. He didn't get hit - not bad, anyway, not like his mom used to get - all that often, but Neil had other little ways of reminding Billy that he had the control. Leaving his drawers open or his things moved, just a little, so Billy knew he'd been through them. The way sometimes his favorite clothes would disappear for a few weeks until Neil returned them, saying Susan had put them in the master closet by mistake. How he watched the food in the house and remarked about the mounting grocery bills if anything Billy liked disappeared faster than he thought they should. This thing with the Camaro's gas gage was just one more in a long string. It came at a good time, though. It was a reminder of what had happened in California. What couldn't happen again if Billy wanted to get back.

So he didn't call Harrington Thursday or Friday. He didn't owe Harrington anything, anyway. It was just a hookup. A great fucking hookup, one Billy would be sad to lose, but it wasn't like they were boyfriends.

“Are you done moping?” Max asked him Saturday afternoon. Billy was sprawled across the couch, watching MTV, because he actually had had the opening shift that day and he was tired. No telling what would happen if he fell asleep and Neil came home, though.

“What the hell would I be moping about?” Billy asked her, sitting up.

Max rolled her eyes. “Steve, maybe? Since apologizing went so bad. I don’t know. You are, though.”

“I’m fucking tired from screaming brats like you at work,” Billy said, “not fucking moping.” He pointed a finger right at her.

“Whatever, I don’t care,” Max said. “Will you drive me to the arcade?”

Billy glanced at the clock. Neil was almost home. Probably that was why Max was asking now, instead of any other time in the hour and change he’d been home. His dad been getting on Max more than normal in the past few weeks - maybe he realized that Billy was almost out of his grasp. Thinking about what would happen when he was actually gone made Billy's heart race. It was why he'd hung around. He figured maybe he could teach Max to stay out of trouble better than he ever did.

On the one hand, Neil was big on family time. On the other, it couldn’t hurt to play at his definition of responsibility by keeping an eye on Max while she was out for a while. And staying scarce was a good strategy when you didn't know what mood he'd be in. “Okay,” he said, “but you better have your own quarters.”

She didn't, of course, so Billy had to hang around the arcade parking lot longer than usual, bitching at Max as he dug around the seats and the floorboards for change.

"Why can't you just give me a bill and I can get quarters there?" Max asked. She was crammed into the back, searching with him.

"Cause I don't have any ones and I don't trust you to bring me change, Mad Max," Billy said, exasperated. He retrieved two dimes from the passenger seat and passed them to her.

They both looked up when someone knocked on the open door. "You lose something?" Harrington asked, because of course it was him.

"Billy doesn't have any quarters or ones so we're collecting change," Max said, sighing dramatically.

"Uh-huh," Harrington said. "Well, Dustin's not here to pilfer my stash, so if you share, I might have some for you."

Max brightened as Harrington patted around his shorts pockets - the same short ones he'd been wearing with the polo last week, but this time with a tight white t-shirt. He came up with a dollar fifty in quarters tucked away and passed them over.

"Thanks, Steve!" she said.

"Dinner's at six so I'll be here at five-thirty," Billy told her, trying to ignore Harrington and his tiny shorts at his back.

"I know, you told me fifty times already," Max said, rolling her eyes. And then she was off.

Billy turned to face Harrington. "What are you doing here without your little tagalong?" he asked. His mouth was dry.

Harrington shrugged. "Those kids can get into a lot of trouble," he said. "Sometimes I like to check up on them."

Billy snorted. "What kind of trouble is there in a town like this?" he asked. Hawkins was nothing like any of the big California cities.

"You'd be surprised," Harrington said. "Will Byers went missing and Nancy's friend Barb died. And that's all in the last eighteen months."

"You're still doing better than LA," Billy said. He tried to be nice about it. Harrington had probably known both of those two most of his life, if only in passing.

Harrington laughed. "Guess that's true," he said, but he was subdued. "Not what I really wanted to talk to you about, though. You going to the bonfire party tonight?"

Billy hadn't been planning on it, but a personal invitation from Harrington made it pretty tempting. It was a big party, after all. There was no way his dad could find out about anything more than Billy being there and defending his crown. "I might be," he said.

Harrington grinned. "You're the life of the party, Hargrove. You better be."

* * *

Neil and Susan got into some big fucking argument about bills after dinner, and Billy was free to go wherever that night. Not before he loaned Max his loudest metal tape and the headphones to his Walkman, though. He’d spent enough time listening to his dad and mom going at it to know how that kind of noise wore on you.

“I hope you’re not too drunk when you come home, I’m not covering for you at breakfast again,” Max told him.

“I know how to fake sober at Sunday breakfast,” Billy told her.

Max stuck her tongue out at him, but she was already putting the tape in her player, no matter how much she complained about it when Billy played it in the Camaro. Billy took that as his cue and crept past the shouting behind the master bedroom door towards freedom, and if he was lucky, getting spectacularly laid.

Harrington was fashionably late, or whatever it was rich people called it when they couldn’t be bothered to show up on time. Billy tried not to get too worked up about it. It was a party, and he’d sat on the sidelines of the last one, so he threw himself into this one, dance and drank and whooped his way through the fallow field it seemed like every teenager in Hawkins was crowded into. He had just finished shotgunning a beer when he saw Harrington, in a black t-shirt and jeans so tight Billy’s mouth flooded with beery drool, standing on the edge of the crowd with a drink in hand. The warm buzz Billy had been cultivating, fuelled by beer and pot not nearly as good as the joint he’d had a few days ago, abruptly changed. He pushed his way through the drunk, laughing teenagers and slung an arm around Harrington.

"King Steve!" he whisper-shouted into Harrington's ear. The man in question leaned away from him a little, looking amused.

"You're the only one who won't let that go, you know," he said. "I'm pretty sure Tommy made it up when he was wasted and trying to impress you."

Billy snorted. "And you were the most impressive thing he could come up with?" he asked.

"Well, his other choices were how fast he can finish a double order of fries at the diner or how he can fuck up with Carol as bad as he does and still convince her to stay with him, so yeah, I guess," Harrington said.

Billy cackled and leaned more of his weight onto Harrington. "That's his real talent," he agreed. "But don't we have better things to do than stand around bitching about Tommy H?"

Harrington grinned at him. "I can think of a lot of things I'd rather be doing. Why don't you help narrow it down for me?" he asked.

Billy leaned in, trusting in the crowd noise to cover up his words, and said, "Well, I was thinking we could go in the woods and you could fuck me." He'd slipped a condom and a few packets of lube he'd shoplifted from a truck stop gas station a few miles out of town in the front pocket of his jeans tonight. If he probably couldn't see Harrington again, he wanted to make the encounter one to remember.

Even in the warm light from the bonfire, Billy could see Harrington's face flush. "That sounds like a way better option," he said, his fingers surreptitiously digging into Billy's side. "Not in the woods, though. They get pretty busy at a party like this."

"Where?" Billy asked. Arousal was flushing through him like a warm tide with every heartbeat. Every little thud of his pulse whispered _'now'_. It had been a week since he'd first touched Harrington, and he couldn't fucking stay away.

"My car," Harrington said. "Come on."

Harrington steered Billy away like he was a friend who'd just had a little too much until they were out of sight of the party. Then he shrugged Billy's arm off and took him by the hand, tugging him along. There was that wicked glint in his eye that had only meant good things for BIlly so far. Still, Billy had to ask.

"You parked far enough away no one else might have the same idea?" Billy said, as the party noise faded behind him. Bare-assed in semi-public in a town where no one knew him was one thing. Bare-assed in the back of Harrington's very recognizable Beemer on the outskirts of a big party? Something else completely.

Harrington frowned. "Shit, no," he said. "But if you don't mind a little drive, I know a place."

"Long as you aren't a boring driver," Billy said.

"I don't think anyone is as interesting a driver as you," Harrington said, laughing. They'd reached his car, so Billy dropped his hand with some reluctance.

"Clearly, you've never been to California," Billy said, giving Harrington that tongue-out grin he couldn't seem to turn off.

"I wish," Harrington said. Then he actually opened the fucking car door for Billy. From the inside, but still. Billy felt a wash of heat over his face as he got in, feeling like a prom date at the afterparty.

"So where we headed?" Billy asked as Harrington fumbled with a tape and then pulled out. He blinked in surprise as the first chords started. Iron Maiden? He hadn't expected that in the least.

"Different field," Harrington said. "Further out, with a farmer who actually gives a shit about noise. We can park the car where it can't be seen from the house, though." He grinned at Billy. "So I guess you just have to try not to be too loud."

Billy laughed. "Look who's fucking talking!" he shot back. The track changed, and it wasn't Iron Maiden any more. Which meant… Harrington had actually sat down and made this tape. With at least two bands Billy really liked. Huh. He didn't know quite how he felt about that.

Harrington parked the car - not too far of a drive, but as promised, the field was absolutely quiet, and cut off from the rest of town by a little rise. "Shall we?" he asked, gesturing at the backseat.

"Read my fucking mind," Billy said, and scrambled out of his shirt and shoes before opening the door and crawling into the back.

Harrington followed suit, pulling the door shut before yanking Billy into a fierce kiss. His mouth tasted like cigarettes and faintly of cheap beer, like half a dozen other ill-advised but thoroughly enjoyable party hookups, and Billy licked eagerly into his mouth. The tape was still playing, and it was a perfect backdrop for exactly what Billy wanted tonight.

Like he was reading his mind, Harrington reached down to fondle Billy through his jeans, cupping the bulge he found there and squeezing before panting into Billy's ear, like he had the hottest cock Harrington had ever touched. "You get hard for me so fast," Harrington said. "It's hot."

"Mm," Billy groaned, and bit Harrington's neck before letting his hands explore that lean stomach and the waistband of Harrington's jeans. "Just can't help myself, a pretty boy like you," he said.

Harrington laughed and bit him right back. "Lucky me," he said.

"Lucky _me_," Billy said firmly, squeezing the sizeable bulge of Harrington's hard dick for emphasis. Then, because he was definitely still buzzed, he swallowed and said, "Thought I ruined any chances for this months ago."

Harrington kissed him again and pulled Billy into his lap so they could grind on each other a little. Then he said, mouth against Billy's throat, "Nah, not ruined. Just made it a little harder, that's all." He ground his cock up against Billy's firmly.

Billy gasped, squirming down onto Harrington's lap. That big dick so close to his ass reminded him of exactly what he wanted here, and he scrabbled for the button of Harrington's jeans. "All right, enough sappy shit, Harrington. I want you inside me, that sound good?"

Harrington laughed breathlessly. "If I'm gonna fuck you, you could at least call me by my first name," he said. But his fingers were undoing Billy's fly as eagerly as Billy was undoing his own, so Billy figured he couldn't be too put out.

"Okay," Billy said, and grabbed Harrington's - _Steve's _\- cock. "Steve. Get fucking naked. I want to get fucked. That better?"

"Much," Harrington said dryly. Then he hesitated, jeans and underwear halfway down his thighs. "My slick's at the house. Do you -?"

Billy dug the lube and the rubber out of his pocket before squirming out of his own jeans. "I'm prepared," he said.

"Oh, you were _prepared_," Harrington - Steve, damn it - said. "You were thinking about this, huh?" He stroked his own cock, once, making a show of the heft of it, the girth. Billy swallowed.

"Hell yes," he said, shifting on the Beemer's seats.

"Then let's see if I can live up to the anticipation," Steve said, scooting back. "Hands and knees, baby."

Billy felt a flush spread down his chest. Steve had called him that a time or two before, but Billy had been a little preoccupied with everything else he'd been doing. Now there was nothing to take his attention off of the fluttering in his stomach the name caused. Billy turned over fast, hoping Steve had missed his expression in the dark.

"Good," Steve breathed. "You look so good like this. Even in the dark. We gotta do this in the light more often." Then the seat shifted beneath Billy and he felt Steve's hands on his cheeks, spreading them apart, and then his breath on Billy's hole.

Steve didn't eat Billy out the same way he sucked Billy's cock. He kissed down from the base of his spine to his tailbone, where he lingered, giving Billy's crack long swipes with the flat of his tongue. His fingers slipped down to play with Billy's balls or drag a firm knuckle across his taint, but he didn't touch Billy's hole except for glancing swipes as he licked elsewhere. It wasn't anything like squeamishness. It was pure teasing, and it made Billy whine.

Steve chuckled into his ass. "You want something, Hargrove?" he teased.

"If you won't put your tongue in my ass properly, maybe you can return the favor?" Billy said, panting. "Call me by my first name."

"Billy," Steve said, like he was savoring it, "all you had to do was ask." Then leaned down and really got to work.

His tongue left trails of fire everywhere it touched. Billy bit his lip when Steve finally probed his hole with the tip of his tongue, muffling what would have been a truly embarrassing noise. The way his hips shifted back to practically suffocate Steve was probably a sign that he liked it, though. Steve speared his tongue in, and then retreated to give Billy a few good firm licks across the rim. Billy groaned.

Steve landed a smacking kiss on him like an asshole - ha ha - and then leaned back so he had enough space to slide a finger into Billy. He must have gotten the lube open at some point, because he went in smooth as glass. Billy panted. He kind of missed the rough drag of Steve's fingers with just spit, but this meant he could take that big dick that much sooner.

"Another one," he said, pushing his ass back. "C'mon, Steve, hurry it up."

Steve bit one asscheek, hard. "Impatient," he said. But he slid a second finger in anyway.

There was no way Steve had missed the way Billy's cock had jumped when he bit him, but that didn't matter so much right now, when Billy was feeling the stretch he'd fucking missed since they left California and all the good cruising spots he knew. He gasped as Steve's fingers twisted, pressing against his walls and searching.

"Yes," Billy moaned. "Jesus, you feel good opening me up."

"You feel so good inside," Steve said, "all hot and tight," and oh shit, that was definitely Billy's prostate he'd found. Billy felt a full-body shudder roll over him when Steve prodded it, and gasped.

"Ah, ah, that's it," Billy said. "Gimme another, please, Steve, please."

"I like it when you beg me for it," Steve said, and gave him another finger. It burned a little, so fast, but Billy wasn't about to complain.

"You fucking make me beg," Billy panted, shoving back onto the stretch. "You give it to me so good, can't help it. Never had it so good."

Steve twisted his fingers again and curled relentlessly over Billy's prostate, over and over. "You fucking bring it out in me," he said, a harsh whisper in the dark. "I just wanna show you what I can do."

"Then show me," Billy said. "I'm fucking ready, come on, put it in me."

Steve's fingers retreated, and there was the crinkle of the condom wrapper. Then the seat dipped again, and - there was a thunk and a curse. Billy shifted until he could see behind him. "What the fuck?" he said.

Steve was hunched over in the backseat, rubbing his head. "Hit my head on the roof," he said.

"You hit your head," Billy said flatly. Some other time, he'd be laughing, but now all he felt was impatience.

"I've never fucked in here before," Steve said, pouting a little. Despite himself, a little fire of possessiveness kindled in Billy's chest. He was the first to soak the seats of the Beemer?

"I'll turn over," he said, and did, as best he could in the tight space. He ended up kicking Steve's thigh, perilously close to his balls, which Steve shielded automatically. "Shit, sorry, but try this way," he said.

As soon as Steve leaned over to fit his cock into him, though, he knew it wasn't going to work. "Fuck, stop," Billy said. "Gonna bang my head into the door, and not in a good way." He slammed a fist against the back of the seats. "_Shit_."

Steve looked plenty frustrated himself. "C'mere, sit up," he said, and pulled Billy into a kiss again, pulling his hair in the way he must have worked out Billy liked. When they broke apart, Billy was willing to be mollified.

"Look," Steve said. "Getting my fingers in you was working out pretty well. So what if we do that, and then maybe… you let me come on your face, huh?"

It wasn't what Billy had been after, but it sure as hell wasn't nothing, either. "That could work," he said.

"All right then," Steve said, grinning. "Just a sec." He leaned over the dash to flip over the tape, which had stopped sometime after he'd gotten the first finger in Billy. "Hands and knees again? I wanna think about your come all over the seats when I get back in here."

"You're fucking dirty, Steve," Billy said, like he wasn't scrambling to do exactly as he was told.

"You fucking like it," Steve said, and then his fingers were in Billy again.

Billy groaned and dropped his head. He couldn't be expected to come up with a reply when three thick fingers were spreading him open, stroking him from the inside, thrusting in and out. He just spread his legs and settled into it. The burn and stretch was so good. The way Steve occasionally paid slow or vicious attention to his sweet spot by turns was just icing on the cake.

Then Steve's fourth finger pressed at Billy's hole with the rest of them, gently, almost a question, and Billy moaned. "Yes, fuck," he said, and panted when Steve slowly worked all four into him. "Feels so fucking good."

Steve gave a few slow, almost teasing thrusts, before he shoved his fingers back in, aiming right for Billy's prostate. Billy actually cried out, shuddering. "Yeah?" Steve asked, curling his fingers and pounding in hard. "You like that, Billy? You close?"

Even if he hadn't been, hearing his name from Steve in that tone of voice would have gotten him there fast. "Yeah," he said. "So fucking close. Steve!"

"Good," Steve said. "I want you to fucking come." He worked his other hand under Billy and closed his hand around his cock.

Billy almost thought he could have come without it, the feeling of being filled was that good. As it was, it only took about ten seconds of Steve stroking him before he felt his balls drawing up and the familiar tension running through him. "Ah," he managed, and then came, splattering all over the seats like Steve had wanted.

Steve stilled his hand and let Billy ride out his orgasm. When Billy's hips had stopped moving, he slowly pulled his fingers loose, as gently as possible. Billy still hissed. It was a lot. A good a lot, but a lot.

"Mm," he said, rolling carefully to his side to avoid the mess, "you're good with your hands, not just your mouth."

"Practice makes perfect," Steve said, smirking.

There was a little tug of jealousy in Billy's gut, but he pushed it down. No need to ruin a good moment. "Guess it does," he said. He took stock of his limbs, decided they'd hold him, and slid down into the footwell, moving until he was face-to-dick with Steve's hard cock. He peeled the condom off of it and tossed it up front to deal with later. "Now, I think you said something about coming on my face?"

"Yeah," Steve said, spreading his legs so Billy could shuffle between them. "I just want you to sit there, okay? Maybe open your mouth. Just… look at me."

Billy could do that. He thought this would end up with him getting Steve's dick in his mouth again, but Steve had just fingerfucked him into a soreness he'd feel for days. He could do what he wanted. Billy tipped his head back and looked up at Steve through his lashes.

"Yeah," Steve groaned, his hand moving fast on his red, dripping cock. Billy's eyes kept bouncing between that and his face. They were both worth staring at. The way Steve squeezed at himself, tight and almost painful like the way he did when he was stroking Billy, the precome that welled thick and sticky from the head, made Billy's dick twitch and make a valiant attempt to fill. But he kept being caught by Steve's eyes, the way he bit his lip and stared down at Billy. The weight of his gaze was almost physical. Billy felt pinned by it, drawn in.

His tongue slid out to lick his lips, and he dropped his gaze back down to Steve's cock. That felt less dangerous somehow. Steve's hips were hitching, and he was making little grunting sounds. Must be getting close. Then he gasped, a little high-pitched sound, almost whining, and Billy clenched his hands into fists and looked back up at Steve's face almost involuntarily.

"Gonna come," Steve said, high and tight in his throat, eyes still locked on Billy. Billy closed his and opened his mouth, and waited for the hot spatter of Steve's come across his face.

It felt dirty, but also like Steve had… marked his territory or something, when it came. The heat of it, the sex smell, was overwhelming, and Billy reflexively swallowed. Steve moaned and came a little more - Billy felt it across his lips - and then stroked a hand through Billy's hair.

"Shit, hold on," Steve said, and then dragged something across Billy's face. "Okay, you can open your eyes now."

Billy did. Steve was leaned back in the seat, flushed all down his chest and smiling. It was his underwear that he'd used to wipe Billy's face, and Billy grabbed them to finish the cleanup. He heaved himself up into the seat, close enough to Steve to avoid the wet spot, and dug around in his jeans for a cigarette. When he lit up, Steve held out a hand for it, and so they passed it back and forth until they hit the filter. When Billy leaned forward to stub it out in the ashtray, Steve groaned and grabbed his jeans.

"Okay, I gotta drop you back at your car before I fall asleep," he said. Billy took that as his cue, and yanked his own jeans on before getting out and circling around to the front.

"Long day?" he asked, making conversation so the ride back wouldn't be awkward.

Steve shrugged. "I don't always sleep so well," he said. "Should tonight, though." He grinned at Billy. "Seems like fucking around with you works better than any sleeping pill."

Billy laughed. "I'll take out an ad in the paper," he said.

"Nah," Steve said. "Then you'd have every insomniac in Hawkins after you. I'd rather keep you to myself."

Billy flushed. Seemed like he'd been doing a lot of that around Steve. "Don't worry," he said. "No danger of losing me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steve absolutely made a mixtape for the purposes of making out with Billy, and he started it before the first time they hooked up. You can listen to it [on Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6omnRBT1fJVN3gX5rXrooM?si=ZkiHVNCNTkaSOA_-GZlRCw), if you like.
> 
> The discussion about Greg the pot farmer and his bees, along with the pig orgasm line from the last chapter, are two things that absolutely would have been cut by any sensible editor. They absolutely delighted me, though, so I kept them in, because isn't that what fic is all about? For the record, because marijuana plants are wind-pollinated, the honey is just fine. Hopper buys it because El likes it better than any other kind. Joyce, on the other hand, absolutely buys pot from Greg.
> 
> This is gonna be the last update for at least a week; I've got some rough stuff in my personal life coming up. I've got a [tumblr](http://sirsparklepants.tumblr.com), which is where I'm most likely to post updates on that, if you wanna keep up.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New tags for this chapter: bondage, homophobic language. Very relevant tags for this chapter: child abuse, porn with feelings. In thanks for the wait, this chapter is almost as long as last chapter, at 8200ish words.

Neil, Susan, and Max were asleep by the time Billy made it home, parking down the block and walking the last few hundred feet to his house. There was a heaviness when he walked in anyway. Billy tried to ignore it - the lack of movement in the air, the sense that the slightest creak of the house's timbers could set something off that no one could control - and crawled into his bed, focusing on the warm flush of his afterglow and the stretch of seldom-used muscles to lull himself to sleep. It was a mistake, and he knew it was a mistake while he was making it. But what the hell else was he supposed to do? Whatever was going to happen would happen, whether he faced it sleep-deprived or well rested. So he might as well sleep while he could. Feel good while he could. Good things were few and far between in Billy's life. He'd hold on to this one while he could.

He should have known better. A thunderous crash woke him, and Billy scrambled out of the blankets as quickly as he could. Not quickly enough. The crash was his father slamming open his bedroom door, and he was faster than Billy, half-asleep, could handle. The door banged shut behind him as he rushed into the room.

"Where were you last night?" Neil asked, snatching up Billy's blankets so one ankle was still caught in them.

"Sir?" Billy asked, looking up at him with bleary eyes. His heart pounded and he grabbed his sheets hard enough to whiten his knuckles.

"It's not a difficult question, Billy," his father said. "Why don't you ever listen to me the first time? Where. Were. You." He leaned in, closer and closer, and Billy had to fight to keep looking him in the eye, to not shrink away from that angry, burning gaze.

"There was a bonfire party last night," Billy said. "We'd had family dinner together, and you and Susan were both home, so I went out." He swallowed. No use lying about that. Neil could verify it anywhere he wanted. And he'd made sure to make connections with the parents of all Billy's friends. It was half the reason he'd gotten so close with Tommy H and the rest of the team - they were just the kind of assholes whose parents would back up anything they said.

Neil smiled, and Billy knew that he'd said something wrong. When didn't he say something wrong? "So you went out without asking me," he said. He yanked on the blankets once, hard, and Billy had to scramble to keep his balance.

"You seemed pretty busy, sir," Billy managed. "Didn't want to interrupt." The fingers of one hand found a tiny hole beginning in his sheets, and he worried it, keeping his eyes on his dad.

"Busy," Neil repeated. "So you noticed Susan and I were having a discussion last night." He grabbed Billy's shoulder suddenly, quick as a snake and twice as vicious. "Why can't you ever think about anything besides yourself, Billy?" he asked, low and mean. "Susan and I wanted to go out, as a couple, to make sure there were no hard feelings after last night. But you were gone, and there was no one to watch Maxine. You're interfering in my marriage, leaving all the time." His fingers dug in, bruising-tight. Billy knew he'd have to wear a shirt to work today.

Billy bit his tongue and struggled for words, still muzzy with sleep and half-choked with adrenaline. "That girl I'm seeing, she was gonna be there," he said. "Thought you'd want me to go."

Neil's face tightened, and Billy knew immediately he'd made a mistake. "Get up," he said, yanking at Billy's arm, pulling him out of bed. "GET UP!"

Billy scrambled up. His heart was going triple time. Why had he done that? Talked about why they'd left California, even obliquely? He was in for it now.

"Listen, you little pansy," Neil said, grabbing the front of Billy's undershirt and using it to steer him around. "Just because you know enough now not to go around like a fucking queer doesn't mean you get any special privileges for acting like a normal boy. A boy who isn't an embarrassment to his family. I haven't checked up on this girl of yours, huh?" he asked, shoving Billy into his shelves. "That's more than a little fairy like you should hope for. Does this girl have a name? Does she?" He pulled Billy back in, face inches away, and shoved him again to emphasize his point.

Billy's head was spinning and for some stupid reason, the only girl's name he could come up with with Mrs. Wheeler's. Hesitation would only make this worse, so he spat out, "Her name is Karen, sir."

"Karen, huh?" Neil got up in his face again, shaking Billy with every word. "Just because you're sticking it in Karen doesn't mean that I don't know what you are, Billy. Do you understand me?" His face was red and crumpled into a snarl. Billy couldn't take his eyes off the movement of his moustache.

"Yes sir," Billy gritted out. Eyes distant. Expression stoic. Like he wasn't there.

Neil slapped him across the face, one light little stinging blow that wouldn't have meant anything to Billy in a fight. Here, in his room, with this man, it made him fight the tears that came to his eyes. "Louder, son!" he said, some manic, angry, glee in his expression.

"Yes sir, I understand," Billy said, louder.

"What will you do from now on, Billy?" Neil said, slapping him across the other cheek.

"I'll ask permission before I go," Billy said, well familiar with this routine.

"That's right," Neil said. "And?" He grabbed Billy by the shoulders and shoved him from the shelf into the door. The doorknob dug painfully into his ribs, and Billy swallowed a hiss.

"I won't interfere in your marriage," Billy gritted out, clenching his teeth.

"That's right," Neil said, patting his cheek gently. Condescendingly. It stung, after those slaps. Billy bit his lip and stared over his father's shoulder. "Now, you get ready for work. Susan and I are going to take Maxine out for dinner tonight, so she doesn't misunderstand our conversation. I don't want to see you before tomorrow morning. You understand?"

"Yes, sir," Billy said.

"Good," Neil said. "And one more thing, Billy. You ruined something of mine. Something I can't get back. An opportunity for time with my wife." He made sure Billy was looking, and then took a cassette off the shelf where Billy had them stacked, messy. Then he threw it on the floor and stomped on it, until it and the case both cracked. "So now I've ruined something of yours. At least it's something you can replace. Right, son?" He smiled at Billy, that cold, ruthless shark grin he got.

"Yes, sir," Billy said, his eyes on the mess of plastic and magnetic tape.

"Now thank me for teaching you that actions have consequences," Neil said, grabbing Billy's chin in one hand until he was sure Billy was staring at him.

"Thank you, sir," Billy said, his voice rough and choked.

"You're welcome, son," his father said, patting him on the shoulder where the bruises were already starting to form. "Now excuse me. I've got to get to church."

Billy moved away from the door mechanically, like someone else was piloting his body. He knelt down to pick up the destroyed tape, keeping his attention firmly on the floor and not the soft open and close of his bedroom door. That was his brand fucking new Ratt tape. He'd had to drive out to a town just outside Indianapolis to get it. It had just released two weeks ago. Stupidly, that was what had tears stinging at his eyes. He'd only listened to it twice. It was a fucking good record. Now he'd have to drive up to Indianapolis again, except his dad was watching the gas levels in his car, so he couldn't even do that. He clenched his fist around the plastic fragments, then let go with a hiss as they dug into his skin sharply.

He should get up off his knees. Get dressed. Get cleaned up. Pick up his room. But Billy waited until he heard the front door open and close, until the rumble of his dad's truck faded away down the street. Down was where his dad liked him, when he put him there. He had to wait to get up.

Billy didn't look at his own face in the mirror while he got ready. He knew what he'd see. A scared, pathetic child, crying cause his daddy hit him. Couldn't take what he earned like a man. No amount of hair product or buttons left undone was going to fix that. He washed his face and brushed his teeth without looking at anything but the sink and his hands.

His hands automatically sought comfort when he opened his dresser, and he pulled out an old, worn-thin Metallica shirt and his most broken-in pair of jeans. Boots, wallet, keys - then he turned back and straightened up his bed before scooping up the tape fragments again. Couldn't leave a mess.

Billy didn't even see Susan at the kitchen table, so focused on dumping the handful of plastic in the trash and then getting out the door, until she cleared her throat. He jumped, and clenched his hands into fists to stop them from shaking. They stung. He must have cut his palms.

He raised his gaze to meet Susan's. He wouldn't fucking flinch away from her. Her and her pitying looks. She chose his dad. He didn't.

"Thank you for loaning Max your headphones last night, Billy," Susan said, with a smile that didn't quite meet her eyes. "She might have - misunderstood the situation. And she doesn't need to be involved in adult discussions like that, don't you think?"

She didn't need to run in when she heard his dad throwing shit around like he did, Susan meant. Because Billy knew as well as Susan did that if Max heard that, she would run in. And then maybe Billy wouldn't be the only kid Neil was teaching lessons to. He didn't like his private discussions interrupted.

The flicker of anger that normally lived in his gut, the one that his dad always managed to extinguish in two words or less, suddenly flared back up. "Yeah, that would be real bad," he sneered at Susan. "Shame someone brought her into a house with so many _adult discussions_, huh, Susan?"

Susan flinched a little at the expression on his face. Couldn't be pretty, as out of control as he felt. "Well, you know, I just have such trouble understanding your father sometimes," she said, with a laugh so tense it was worse than if she'd burst into tears. "It's my fault, really. I just wanted to ask - if you were going to the mall anytime soon, could you get Max her own set?" She slid fifteen dollars across the table. Enough for Max's fucking headphones and a new copy of Billy's tape, if the Sam Goody in the mall had it.

Billy saw red. His breath was loud in his own ears. His vision tunneled down to her manicured fingers on the pile of bills. So Susan thought she could buy him off? Get him to protect her kid, since she clearly couldn't? He squared his shoulders and stomped over, enjoying the way Susan's own shoulders caved inwards as he got closer. He took his time leaning down, got into her space, and he only snatched up the money when her eyes dropped to the table.

"Sure," he said. "I'll buy the goddamn headphones. You better get Max up. Don't want to be late to church." Then he slammed out of the house and peeled out.

He didn't work until the afternoon, so he guessed he had to find something to do in this church town on a Sunday morning. At least Neil was Methodist like Susan and Max, not Catholic like Billy and his mom, so Billy didn't have to sit through church service where his dad was a fucking usher. There early every Sunday. Billy had kept going to Mass after his mom left mostly to spite his dad, but there wasn't a Catholic church in Hawkins, just a Methodist one and a generic Christian church most of the town turned their nose up at, so it worked out for him in some way.

Billy scrabbled for a tape as he drove blindly through the quiet, early morning Sunday neighborhoods. He slammed one in the player without looking, and then turned the stereo off viciously when it turned out to be his other Ratt tape. He didn't want to think about this morning at all. Maybe he'd head to the mall after all. Even Hawkins on a Sunday couldn't resist the siren call of capitalism.

* * *

The mall opened thirty minutes after the Camaro screeched into the parking lot. While he waited for the locks on the main doors to come off, Billy chain-smoked his way through half his remaining cigarettes. He'd have to get a new pack and some gum before he went into work. Eventually, the shaking in his hands calmed down, and he even got back into the car to do what fixing up he could of his hair in the visor mirror. It wasn't a lot; he was lucky there was some volume left from yesterday where he got ready for the party. Billy fixed what he could, sprayed it down with the Aqua Net in his work bag, and headed in.

The Sam Goody had his fucking Ratt tape, wonder of wonders. He picked it up, along with a set of cheap headphones for Max. It probably pissed the clerk off, but he paid in two transactions: Susan's money for Max and his money for the tape. He wouldn't use Susan's fucking guilt money. She probably got it off his dad because he'd just felt _so bad_ about their _misunderstanding_ last night. Billy snorted. He used to get that shit when his mom was still around. So did she, for that matter. Dinners out. Movie tickets. New wax for his surfboard. Eventually, it would just be Susan's fault for making Neil angry and the gifts would dry up. She'd be better off saving her money to leave his dad, just like he was.

Billy still had an hour before he had to leave for the pool, so he fucked around in the mall a while, happy to be in one of the few buildings in this shitty town with air conditioning. Hawkins didn't need it more than a few weeks a year, but the sticky, muggy summer was a lot more tolerable inside. His feet drew him to the food court eventually, no matter how he tried to stay away. And of course, Steve was there, at the Scoops counter, in that porno-worthy uniform. How the hell Billy was supposed to resist that, he didn't know.

A flush crept its way over Steve's face when he caught sight of Billy, and Billy had to work to resist the urge to lick his lips at Steve, real obvious. There weren't many customers in the mall this time on a Sunday, but he wasn't the only one in Scoops. Instead, he smirked, and drawled, "No greeting for a customer, Harrington?"

Steve rolled his eyes. "It's _Steve_, we've been over this," he said, but a little smile worked its way onto his lips anyway. "What brings you in for ice cream at ten-forty-five on a Sunday morning?"

"No Catholic church in Hawkins," Billy said, flicking the saints' medallion around his neck. "So I got nothing better to do." He leaned against the counter, like he was getting a better look at the ice cream instead of giving Steve a better look at the marks on his neck.

"Yeah, there's one two towns over," Steve said absently, his attention right where Billy wanted it.

Billy shrugged. "I'm happy to be one of the heathens now," he said, "Otherwise I wouldn't be here keeping you company."

"True," Steve said. "How long do you have? Sundays are pretty slow." He was still looking at the bruises he'd bitten onto Billy, one hand squeezing the handle of his ice cream scoop. Clearly he was thinking about that back room just as hard as Billy was.

"Not that long," Billy said, checking the clock. "I close up at the pool tonight. Gotta get going soon. But I can make some time tonight if you can, pretty boy."

Steve grinned at him. "I think most of Hawkins is closed up after I'm off work, but my parents just left town. Pretty sure we can find something to do at my place."

"Oh yeah?" Billy said, eyebrows raised. "We gonna order pizza, have a few beers?"

"Sure," Steve said, "if you want. Or, if you're not too sick of swimming, I've got a pool in the backyard."

Honestly, a pool empty of shrieking children Billy had to corral sounded like heaven. "Believe it or not, lifeguards don't get to swim that much. Too busy keeping the clientele from drowning."

"So that's a yes?" Steve said.

"Sure is," Billy said. He wished he could get away with touching those pretty pink lips of Steve's. The blue of his uniform made them look obscene.

But a girl with dirty blond hair in an even more ridiculous version of the sailor uniform leaned out of the back room. "If you're not going to order some ice cream, can you get going?" she said, rolling her eyes. "We've gotta get this place cleaned up before the manager shows up. Steve doesn't need the distraction."

Billy clenched the fingers of his right hand, more startled than he wanted to show. Steve looked pretty flinchy himself, flushing and fumbling with his ice cream scoop. "Maybe I was about to order and you interrupted me," Billy said, flashing a painfully insincere grin her way.

"Right," she said. "Either way, can you hurry it up?" She let the door bang shut behind her without waiting for an answer.

"Well, that's just not the kind of service I expect," Billy called after her, doing some eye-rolling of his own. The shop was mostly empty. They'd get it done.

He turned back to look at Steve. "I don't want to drip ice cream all over my upholstery, or I'd let you _serve_ me," he said with a particularly lewd grin. "I'll see you at nine?"

"Nine works," Steve said, still flushed but smiling now. "I'll have the beer cold and waiting."

"You sure know how to treat a man," Billy said. Then he turned and left, morning much improved.

* * *

The Sunday shift was just as long as Billy was sure it was going to be. The only saving grace to working Sundays was that the pool closed at seven instead of nine like usual, and by that time almost everyone in Hawkins was sitting down to Sunday dinner, so it didn't take Billy long to kick out the stragglers. Then it was just a matter of straightening the furniture, throwing away trash, gathering the lost items, checking the pool levels, and cleaning the locker rooms. Tedious work, but hardly difficult. Billy rushed through it, thinking about a whole house to themselves and what that meant they could get up to. It was quarter to nine when he pulled up to the enormous Harrington house, music blaring. Even if his hair was flatter than he'd like, Billy had all the swagger back in his strut. This morning's encounter with his dad was relegated to the back of his mind, as it should be. He had more important things to worry about.

When Billy was halfway to the porch, the front door opened. Steve propped himself up against the doorway, looking mouthwatering in a tiny pair of dark green swim shorts and a black t-shirt. The promised beer dangled in Steve's off hand, opened, while another one was pressed to Steve's lips.

"I could hear your music halfway down the block," he said, shoving the spare beer into Billy's hand as he stepped onto the porch.

"Let you get ready to greet me like a sexy little housewife," Billy teased, draining about half the beer in one grateful gulp. He hadn't been able to do anything but look at the pool longingly, and the day had been sticky and hot - especially with his shirt on all day.

Steve laughed. "If I was a housewife, I'd have something better for us to eat than pizza rolls," he said, going for Billy's bicep to tow him around like usual. Billy jerked back quick, though, and Steve stopped with his hand in the air, frowning.

"Lifted too heavy and banged into the bar sitting up," Billy explained, shoving his sleeve up to show the smudge of purple on his arm. He was banking on Steve not having seen bruises like this enough to figure out what they were.

"Oh," Steve said. "You could have just said."

Billy shrugged. "Kinda like you dragging me around," he said.

Steve smiled, one with a wicked note. "Well, in that case," he said, and went for Billy's other arm. "Come the fuck in, Billy. Do I have to issue a written invitation?"

Billy let Steve tug him inside, but then he headed straight for the kitchen, following his nose. He hadn't eaten since family dinner the night before. "You say something about pizza rolls?" His stomach growled, and he hoped Steve didn't hear it.

"Well, I was just making them for me, but you can have some, if you like," Steve said. "Long shift?"

"Sundays always are," Billy said. Slow enough that they only needed the one employee, enough business they stayed open seven hours anyway. His beer was already gone, and he crumpled the can and wandered around the kitchen under the guise of looking for the trash can. Really he was just nosy.

Steve, busy splitting his pizza rolls onto two plates, just got Billy another beer with the food. Cheap microwave food or not, it felt more domestic than any of the family dinners Billy had had in Hawkins. He took another swallow of beer and a handful of too-hot pastry to cover up the feeling.

"You tired of being outside yet or you wanna eat by the pool?" Steve asked, busy with his own plate and beer.

Billy considered. It was nice being in the air conditioning, but the sun was down and it had started to cool off. He kind of wanted to eat with his feet in the water. "Let's eat by the pool," he decided. "Yours is probably nicer than the one at work."

Steve laughed, but there wasn't much humor in it. "I don't know, I think some things there are nicer," he said, opening the sliding glass door.

Billy skipped the loungers and went straight for the decking, kicking his shoes off and sitting on the edge of the pool. "Like what?" he said skeptically, looking at the clean, pristine, well-lit waters.

"Like hot lifeguards," Steve said, sitting cross-legged next to him. He was clearly biting something back, but then again, so was Billy. They didn't have to talk about it.

"Aw, _Stevie_," Billy said instead, tongue out, "you think my uniform's hot?"

Steve rolled his eyes. "Half of Hawkins thinks your uniform's hot," he said through a mouthful of pizza roll. "You think I don't hear the moms gossiping when I drop off the kids sometimes?"

"I know that," Billy said, smirking, "but that's not what I asked. Do you like it?" He nudged Steve's knee with his. He hadn't bothered to change out of his uniform trunks, just put his shirt back on when he got in the car.

Steve sighed, but he nudged Billy back. "You're cut, shirtless, and sweating in a pair of tiny shorts in the sun. Yeah, I like it, Billy."

Billy grinned, looking down at his beer. Just because he knew he looked good didn't mean that he didn't like hearing it, and it was better from the mouth of someone he actually wanted to bang. "Your uniform isn't half bad either," he said.

"You've got to be kidding," Steve said. "I look ridiculous."

"You look like you're about to walk off to a porno mag shoot," Billy shot back. "One of those sailor-themed ones."

Steve frowned. "I've never seen anything like that in a porno mag," he said. "Usually it's all… bikinis and Daisy Dukes if they're wearing clothes at all."

"A _gay _skin mag," Billy clarified. "What, you've never seen one?" That was a shame. Steve clearly wasn't uncomfortable with liking dick; he should have some nice ones to jerk off to if he wanted.

"We're lucky they'll sell skin mags inside town limits at all," Steve said. "There was some big morality law they tried to pass when I was fourteen. Gay porno would get somebody run out of town on a rail. I know they sell 'em in Indianapolis, but you have to find the right shops, and nobody will tell a hick kid from the sticks where they are."

"I've got a stash," Billy offered. "Maybe later we can look through 'em. Get some… inspiration. If you're running out of ideas." He licked his lips showily.

Steve set aside his plate and his beer, eyes dark. "Not even close," he said. "You wanna try me?"

Billy shoved his own meal detritus aside and leaned in for the kiss Steve's expression promised him. They both tasted like beer and tomato sauce and salt, but it didn't matter. Steve's slow, demanding kiss took up every ounce of Billy's attention. The movement of their lips sent all thought straight out of his head, and he panted when they broke apart.

"You think we got time for more than one tonight?" Billy asked. He probably sounded too eager, but he was finding it hard to give a fuck. He had all night, for once, and all the privacy he could wish for. He was going to take advantage of it.

"Maybe," Steve said, his hand high on Billy's thigh, fingertips flirting with the hem of his shorts. "If you don't have to leave."

Billy shook his head. "Don't have to be anywhere until work tomorrow," he said. He was mesmerized by the way Steve was staring at his mouth.

"Let's take this upstairs, then," Steve said. "I need a little space for what I'm thinking."

Reluctantly, Billy took his hands off Steve and heaved himself up. His pulse was kicking fast in his veins. He had no idea what Steve wanted to do to him, but it had all been so good so far. Tonight was like something out of time, like a gift to tide Billy over until California. He wanted to take whatever Steve wanted to give him.

What Steve wanted to give him was, apparently, a searing kiss against the wall of his plaid, plaid bedroom, even though there was a perfectly good, spacious bed right there that Billy could be spread out on. But the weight of Steve's long, lean body against his, the way he pressed Billy's shoulders to the wall, like he expected them to stay there, that was pretty good too. Billy shoved his fingers below the waistband of Steve's shorts, grabbing a handful of his ass and incidentally hauling him in closer. Neither of them were all the way hard yet, and it was a special kind of sexy to feel Steve's cock thickening up quick next to his.

Steve pulled away before Billy was satisfied, and shoved him back into the wall with a little thump when Billy tried to chase his mouth. It was so different from when Neil had done the same thing that morning that it felt like Steve was wiping him away. Billy hastily stuffed that thought back in the box in his head where it belonged.

"Hold on," Steve said, breathing heavy. "I thought you wanted to hear about my ideas."

Billy groaned. "Not hear about so much as do, pretty boy," he said, eyes on Steve's pink lips. But he stayed where he was put.

"Well, you'll have to hear about these," Steve said, biting his lip on a little grin, "because I want you to pick."

"Pick what?" Billy asked, his heartbeat speeding.

"Which one we're gonna do. Or which one we're gonna do first, I guess. I've been thinking about them both."

Billy shivered. "Let's hear it," he said.

In the dim half-light of the bedroom, Steve's eyes glittered. "I could fuck you," he said, low, "like you wanted so bad last night, on your hands and knees until you're begging to come. Or…" he hesitated.

"Or?" Billy prompted hoarsely.

"Or, I could tie your wrists together and ride you until I come. If you think you could hold out that long," Steve said.

Billy got all the way hard so fast he felt dizzy. Or maybe that was the breath in his lungs leaving in a whoosh at the gutpunch of arousal that had just hit him. It was like Steve had reached inside his balls and given them a tug. "What would you tie me up with?" he managed. He wouldn't do a belt.

Steve shifted. "My mom has these silk scarves from Milan that should work," he said.

Billy was too busy picturing it to make fun of that the way it deserved. "That, then," he said, squeezing Steve at the waist. "If you'll turn the light on. I want to watch you take my cock."

"Deal," Steve said, and manhandled Billy towards the bed. "Get fucking naked."

He flicked the bedside lamp on and left the room, presumably to get the scarves. Billy kicked his clothes off and laid on his back on the bed. His heart was thumping audibly in his ears. He'd never let anyone do this. Fuck him, ride him, bite him, sure. But lay him out in their bed and tie him up? Never. There was a fire in Steve, though, that burned like Billy's did, and he ached for it. If this was how it came out? Billy was sure he was in for the ride of his life.

Steve came back in, naked now himself, clutching a handful of filmy fabric. His eyes burned when he saw Billy laid out before him. "Nice," he said, stalking over like some sort of predator. Billy swallowed. The lamplight cast a golden sheen on Steve, highlighting his muscles and the slender strength of his limbs. And of course, the bob of his gorgeous big cock.

"You too," Billy said, arching like a cat under the weight of that hot dark gaze. His cock had softened a little, but it perked right back up when he saw how Steve appreciated him.

"I thought about this," Steve said, kneeling on the bed, dropping the scarves on the pillow and whispering into Billy's ear. "Got myself off thinking about shoving you into my bed and fucking you."

"Yeah?" Billy said. He tried not to shiver at Steve's words brushing against his ear. "Showing me who's the real king, huh?"

Steve laughed, a low, sexy little sound. "Oh, you're still the king here," he said. "You can have all the adoring subjects. I'm just the guy who ties the king up and takes what he wants." He slid his hands up Billy's arms and yanked them until his wrists were pressed together above his head.

"The guy who's really on top, huh?" Billy asked, squirming a little at the feeling of the silk wrapping around him. It was ticklish and odd and smooth and hot, all at once. He yanked at his bonds reflexively when Steve finished tying them up, and his wrists moved, but his balance was off. He clearly wasn't going anywhere.

"That's fucking right," Steve said, doing a little pulling at the scarves himself. "I've got you right where I want you, and you wouldn't want to be anywhere else." He didn't wait for Billy to answer - not that he would, because the only answer to something like that was 'yes'. Instead, he leaned down for the slowest, bossiest kiss Billy had ever gotten, licking into his mouth and pulling softly on his bottom lip with his teeth. Whenever Billy got squirmy he bit harder, and Billy liked that, so he just squirmed more. Eventually, they both had to breathe, though, and he pulled away.

"It's too quiet in here, don't you think?" Steve asked breathlessly.

"Huh?" Billy asked, his mind mostly on the way their hard dicks pressed together and the pull of his arms against silk.

"Just a sec," Steve said. Then he was getting up and clattering around with something plastic - a tape, since music filled the room a moment later. Then Steve was back, pulling something out of his nightstand and climbing on top of Billy again.

"Metallica?" Billy asked, eyebrows raised. "Didn't think you had it in you."

Steve laughed and rubbed his ass against Billy's cock. "Oh, I'm about to have it in me, all right," he said.

Billy thrust his hips into it, then huffed a sigh of complaint when Steve moved. "You gonna let me watch you get ready, since I can't help you out?" he asked, wiggling his tied-together fingers.

"You're gonna help me out, all right," Steve said, knee-walking up to Billy's shoulders. He traced the seam of his lips, pulling the lower one down with his thumb. "Don't think I didn't notice how much you like a dick in your mouth. So you're gonna keep me hard while I get myself ready. No fancy tricks. I don't want to come. Just gonna keep my dick nice and warm and hard."

Billy licked the tip of his thumb, temporarily lost for words. Having his mouth filled while Steve stretched himself, not able to move, not supposed to suck, just surrounded by his smell and taste… it sounded like exactly what Billy needed to shake off this morning for real. Instead of answering, he just opened his mouth wide, looking at Steve.

Steve smiled like he'd known Billy would agree. "Kick your foot twice if you need to stop," he said, and then slowly fed Billy his whole cock.

It was hard to keep his throat open at this angle, and if he wasn't allowed to swallow, the spit he could feel pooling at the edges of his mouth would spill over, but having his mouth full was worth it. Cigarettes weren't the only reason he liked something in his mouth, but after he took up smoking it became a compulsion, a need. Billy thought idly that Steve was almost as good as the first cigarette after a day at school when he wasn't able to sneak one.

"Good," Steve said, breathing coming a little heavier now, when his dick was settled in Billy's mouth to the root. "Now don't distract me. I gotta get ready for your pretty dick." He patted Billy's distended cheek and then reached for the lube.

Billy thought about giving him a hard suck in retaliation, but he was too busy staring up at the flush on Steve's cheeks, the way his eyes closed as he slid a finger into himself. Besides, if he'd been making any kind of noise, he might have missed the squelch of the lube going into Steve's body, his small little sighs and subvocal moans that he could just catch over the music, the way his shoulders and his dick twitched at the same time when he did something that felt good. Steve looked good like this, taking over Billy's entire field of vision, bent just enough he could get his own fingers up his ass. Without anything else to focus on, Billy let his mind drift. Spit was running out of the corners of his mouth, but that was all right. His jaw would get sore soon, but that was fine too. With a moaning boy above him and a dick in his mouth, Billy was content.

Steve's eyes were so dark and pretty, and the only time they left Billy's was when he did something particularly good to himself and his lashes fluttered. Billy tried to distract himself from the ache in his cock by trying to guess how many fingers Steve was up to now from his noises and his expression, but that didn't exactly help how turned-on and restless he felt. When Steve let out a high, tight little gasp, Billy pulled at his wrists for lack of any other outlet. He couldn't even kick his feet, or Steve might stop, and that seemed like the worst thing in the world right now.

Steve did a little squirming himself, and the little hitches of his cock sliding back and forth across Billy's tongue were just enough stimulation that he whined, held in a state of helpless arousal.

"Ah," Steve groaned, and moved his hips a little more deliberately. "You're being so good, baby. It gets me so hot, you watching me like that, doing just what I asked you." His breath caught for a second, and he stilled before his arm started moving again, more deliberately. "Your fingers feel better in me, but I like watching you all tied up too much to let you loose. You looking forward to getting that dick in me?"

Billy dragged his tongue along what he could of Steve's cock, since he couldn't exactly answer, or even nod.

"Fuck," Steve breathed out, and his lashes fluttered. "Yeah, me too. I'm gonna use you, Billy, until I come all over this perfect fucking chest, and you're going to let me."

Billy's fingers reflexively curled and uncurled, and he hitched his hips as best he could. Fuck yeah, he would. Although if Steve didn't do it soon, he was vaguely worried about his staying power.

Steve's eyes rolled a little bit, and he rolled his hips back into his fingers. Then, as if he could read Billy's thoughts, he pulled his fingers free and his dick out of Billy's mouth. "I'm ready, I'm ready," he said, scrabbling on the bed until he snatched up a condom. He smoothed it onto Billy's cock. "God, your dick is gonna feel so good in me. You ready?"

"Fuck yeah," Billy groaned, voice hoarse. "C'mon, pretty boy, get on me."

He didn't have to ask twice. Steve's big strong hand was on his cock, aiming straight for his hot, stretched hole. Billy's nails dug into his palms as Steve sank down, trying to stay still. The lance of stinging pain surprised him. He'd forgotten about the little cuts. It grounded him, though, into staying still until Steve's ass was resting on his pelvis.

"Ugh, god," Steve said, jerking his hips and shivering. "You're so fucking thick inside me, feel so fucking good, Billy."

"Bet I'd feel even better if you moved," Billy said, curling his toes in the sheets with the effort of not shoving into Steve.

Steve laughed, a little, and bounced up and down an inch or so, just enough to make Billy gasp. "That's what you think, huh?" he asked.

"Yeah," Billy said, his eyes glued to Steve and the little flash he caught of where they were joined.

"Well, you're not in charge here, _King Billy_. I am," Steve said, doing another little bounce, slow this time. "This is my ride. We don't get off until - I - say." He punctuated this with a series of humping little grinds down onto Billy's dick.

"Fuck, Steve," Billy moaned. "Please, move." Without something to distract him, he was getting dangerously turned on.

"I think you'll have to ask prettier than that," Steve said, panting as he just barely rode Billy. His cock jounced gently, and it should have looked ridiculous. Instead, the sticky-wet sheen of Billy's saliva caught the light, and it just made Billy want it back in his mouth.

"Uh," Billy managed, transfixed by the sweat that had broken out on Steve's chest. Then Steve clenched up on him, and he hissed. "Oh god, pretty boy, please, please, move properly. I'm begging you, fuck."

"That's better," Steve panted. Then he stopped fucking around and pushed up, fucking himself on Billy's cock to the rhythm of the still-playing music. It only took a few thrusts before he must have found an angle he liked, because his head rolled back and he groaned.

"Shit," Billy said, clenching his fingers into fists. "You look so fucking good like this. Bouncing on my dick." God, he felt so fucking perfect too, hot and wet and tight.

"You look better letting me," Steve said, leaning down to brace himself on Billy's shoulders. "It's such a fucking rush - ah! - a rush to see you like this. Letting me do what I want."

"Wouldn't let anybody else," Billy managed, rolling his hips up into Steve's next thrust. He wouldn't have said it, but with Steve riding him, his cock rubbing against Billy's abs, his hands on his shoulders, his scarves keeping him from moving, the words just crawled out of his throat.

Steve moaned and fucked himself on Billy's cock harder, faster. "I'm getting close," he said. "God, you feel so good inside me."

"Good," Billy said. "Bust all over me, Steve. Want to feel it." Distantly, he registered that this was the same tape from the car, because the same Queen song with the sexy beat was playing -_ get down, make love!_ It was unimportant, but he hung onto the lyrics to stave off his orgasm.

Steve leaned in closer and pressed his mouth to Billy's. This close to both of them coming, it wasn't so much a kiss as a sloppy mess of spit and teeth and breath, but it pressed Billy's cock deeper into Steve and Steve's cock harder against Billy, so it was perfect. Steve whimpered into his mouth and bit down onto Billy's lower lip, and that was it, Billy felt his dick pulsing between them, painting his abs with white.

"Fuck," Billy breathed out. "Please, please say I can come, Steve. God, I need it." He shoved his dick into Steve once, unable to help himself, before stilling.

Steve kissed him again briefly before pulling away. "Yeah, baby," he said, panting and flushed. "You've been so good. Come in me. I want it."

"Shit," Billy said, rolling his head back and forth on the pillow. He wanted to grab Steve's hips, shove him down onto Billy's cock, but he couldn't. He pulled against the scarves a few times - he almost wished he'd bruise, but they weren't tied quite tight enough - and then braced his shoulders on the bed, using the leverage to thrust into Steve.

Billy didn't like being fucked after he came, but Steve clearly didn't mind it, the way his eyes rolled back in his head and his spent cock jerked against Billy's abs. Billy concentrated on that, the mess of cooling come on his abs, the pull in his shoulders from being above his head so long, the sweet tight heat around his cock, and it didn't take long before he was panting, rolling his hips into Steve hard.

"Ah, ah, ah," he gasped, and then squeezed his eyes shut as he came, shoving his dick as deep into Steve as he could get, panting like a bellows. He might have shouted, he didn't know. When he got his shit together enough to look back up, Steve was watching him like he was ready to go again right this second.

Billy grinned up at him. "What are you looking at?" he asked. He knew what Steve was looking at. His fucked-up hair, his sex flush, the red marks around his wrists.

"What King Billy looks like rode hard and put away wet," Steve said, sliding gingerly off Billy's cock. He leaned up to undo the tie around Billy's wrists, and then rolled off of him like his legs just couldn't hold him any more.

Billy pulled his arms apart - it was weird being able to do that - and then carefully stretched before he pulled the condom off and pitched it in the general direction of a trash can he'd seen earlier. "You're not exactly looking fresh as a daisy yourself," he said, letting his arm fall around Steve's shoulders.

Steve laughed. "No," he agreed. "Think we both need a little recharge after that. Would you get the light?"

Billy grunted and sat up enough to switch the lamp off. It was full dark outside now, and the tape was winding down - a Scorpions song, nice. Somehow, it felt natural to roll back into Steve, who'd pulled the blankets out from under them both, and tuck his head into the curve of the other boy's neck. Steve started rubbing the wrist he could reach, long, soothing strokes to the tender places where the scarves had been, and between that and his orgasm, Billy found his eyelids drooping. He probably wouldn't sleep long, never did in strange places, so he could just… let go.

When his eyes opened again, Billy tensed, but didn't move. He'd been asleep way longer than he meant to, he could tell. The very early morning hush surrounded him, and Steve was breathing slowly and deeply near his ear. Shit, Billy had drooled on him a little. When was the last time he'd slept heavy enough to do that?

Billy extracted himself and sat up from the bed. This felt different than any hookup that he'd had, and that meant it was dangerous. He got out of bed and found his clothes, making a face as he stepped on the condom and then threw it away properly, and pulled the blankets back over Steve before getting dressed and creeping down the stairs. That fucking Queen song was repeating in his head as he climbed into the Camaro and pulled out of the driveway. _Get down make love!_

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Billy hit the brakes, too fucking loud for five in the morning in a rich neighborhood, and slammed his hands onto the steering wheel, over and over again, before throwing the Camaro into gear again and peeling out with a screech of tires. Shit. That couldn't be it, right? Billy had had a little crush on Steve Harrington for months, but that was all it had been. A crush. Pathetic pining. A few days wasn't enough to turn that into something real. Something dangerous. Something Billy's dad could use against them both.

Billy headed straight for the backroads of Hawkins. He was going to drive this out. Get that stupid idea that that stupid mixtape of Steve's - Harrington's - had put in his head. Maybe he liked Harrington, a bit. Maybe he was comfortable with him and liked the sex. That didn't mean - love, or anything like that. And anyway, even if he was getting more into this hookup than he should be, no way Harrington felt like that, too. Not to the guy that beat his face in.

He slammed a tape into his car - the new Ratt tape, okay, sure - and turned the volume up to teeth-rattling to drown his thoughts. It didn't help. Harrington hadn't just had Queen on that tape. He'd had Ratt and Metallica and fucking Motorhead, and sure, they were all good songs to fuck to, but Billy got the feeling it was way more his taste than Harrington's. It wasn't the kind of thing that just took an afternoon to throw together, either. And the way he'd looked at Billy with Billy's dick in him, the way he couldn't ever take his eyes off BIlly when they were hooking up…

Billy threw on the e-brake and steered the car into a fishtail, half-hoping he'd hit one of Hawkins' ever-present trees and solve all his problems at once. He skidded to a stop a few feet, short, though, panting, music still ear shatteringly loud in the early morning quiet.

Okay. Okay, he could fix this. Damage control time. No more telling himself this was the last time and finding Harrington anyway. He had to stay away if he didn't want his dad to send him off to some military school or conversion camp somewhere. He'd have to hook up with a girl, too, big and open, in front of as many people in Hawkins as possible. And that meant at work. Billy clutched his steering wheel. He'd even told his dad his girl's name was Karen, and Karen Wheeler was after him hard. He'd - he'd tell her to meet him at some no-tell motel. Even if she said yes, she'd probably back out anyway. And if she didn't, well, he'd deal with that when it came to it. His dad would figure there was a reason he'd been so secretive. He'd still get it for fucking with a marriage, but not nearly the same as he would for fucking with a guy.

Yeah. Yeah, all right. Billy turned his music down just a little, breathing easier. He'd go into work today, and he'd flirt back with Karen Wheeler. And he'd leave Steve Harrington in his rearview mirror where he belonged. A good memory until he could get to California.

* * *

He barely had to push Mrs. Wheeler. She was a little hesitant - hopefully she wouldn't show up after all - but Billy got her to agree, when half of Hawkins was cooling off. They were quiet, maybe weren't overheard, but Billy made his body language obvious, and Heather was a gossip. She'd put two and two together, and this would get back to Steve and his old man, two birds with one stone. It was all right. He'd survive this like everything else.

Then something crashed into his car, and he thought he was going to die. And then he wished he had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *rubs hands gleefully* And we're now into season 3, y'all! Forthcoming chapters will be from Steve's point of view, for obvious reasons. The last six or seven paragraphs I've had in my head forever, and they're one of the reasons I started writing this fic in the first place. Anyway, we're firmly into the "angst" part of the "smut and angst", so hold on, because it's gonna get worse before it gets better.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No new tags for this chapter, but note it deals heavily with possession.

The growl of an engine woke Steve. The bed was still warm, and he was thrown off for a minute by the light quality in his room. He always woke up in the middle of the night. The only time he saw this end of the morning was when he'd stayed up through it, trying to fall asleep with the sun out, to see if it would keep his nightmares away.

Fuck, had Billy left? Fuck, had they _both _slept through most of the night? Steve rolled over to face the clock and then shoved his face into the pillow, groaning. Great job, Harrington. Tell a guy you'll show him a good time and then knock out halfway through. Billy at least could have woken him up for morning sex. There was no way he had to leave for work at the pool at five-fifteen AM. Unless it was bad? Steve didn't think it had been bad, and he'd had a lot of bad sex before he got it right. Fucking was one of the few things he was sure of himself about. And if it was bad, why would Billy have stayed so long?

Steve sat up in bed, scrubbing his face. There was no way he was getting back to sleep now, worrying about how well Billy Hargrove had liked being tied up and ridden hard. He needed coffee. A whole pot of it. And the first one ought to be really Irish.

The worst part was, he could feel Billy still, in the twinge of his ass and the satisfying ache in his thighs as he went down the stairs, and he couldn't help but shiver. He hadn't fucked around with a guy since before Nancy, and he wasn't about to ask a party hookup if she'd finger him up the ass. That was trusted girlfriend or regular fuckbuddy territory, someone Steve knew wouldn't open her mouth and spread that shit around town. He had enough trouble from his parents without some rumor that he liked it up the ass making its way through the small-town gossip channels. Sure he did, but that was no one's business but his and whoever was playing with it at the time.

Steve slumped over the bar as he watched the coffee brew, leaning into that well-fucked ache. Guess he'd have to go find Billy to figure out what was going on. Or wait for Billy to call, but if he was freaking out over the tied-up thing, like Steve suspected, that was a long shot. Maybe he should give Billy some space? But he didn't like to do that. He got squirmy and upset and, well, childish, if it felt like someone he was into wasn't paying attention to him. That was part of how that whole thing with Nancy and Jonathan - god, it was almost two years ago now, wasn't it - escalated so fast and so badly.

Steve was well aware this crush or whatever he had on Billy was fucking ridiculous. The guy had attacked a bunch of middle schoolers and lost his shit on Steve. But Billy was so wild in a way Steve envied sometimes. He had a way of sucking up all the air in a room, making absolutely sure he was paid attention to. He didn't apologize for taking up space or for going after what he wanted. And sometimes - just sometimes - if Steve was watching really closely, it seemed like under the surface? There was a guy just as fucked up as Steve was, someone who might not run if Steve let on just a little bit of how batshit his life was right now. And being with Billy felt like Steve could reclaim some of his own fire, his own wildness, when his fucking life wasn't in danger. So yeah. He was ridiculously into Billy, and it was pure dumb luck that had them fucking around. Steve would hate to lose it.

The coffee pot burbled, finished brewing, and Steve startled. Irish coffee and infomercials until the pool opened. Then he could figure out what was going on with Billy.

He'd maybe made the coffee a little too Irish, because he'd fallen into a doze only broken by the infomercials switching to a Miami Vice rerun. The sounds of a car chase got his heart going like caffeine could only hope to do. He had to rush to get ready if he wanted to swing by the pool before Scoops, but maybe that would work for him? Billy had said something last night about the shorts, so Steve tried not to feel ridiculous as he drove over in his uniform. He tried not to pull at his hair. He only mostly succeeded. 

Something was different when he got to the pool, though. Steve had hoped to catch Billy's attention through the fence so he didn't have to pay the entry fee, but he wasn't up on the stand and neither was Heather or anyone else. And… someone was missing from the row of moms set out to enjoy Billy's eye candy. Who was it? Steve knew each and every one of them - perils of growing up in a small town - and maybe he should be grateful to them, because it was jealousy of how openly they looked at Billy that made Steve speak up in the first place. But he wasn't. Who was missing? Where was Billy? Steve bit his lip and looked around before he spotted the answer to both his questions at once. 

Nancy's mom. Of course it was Nancy's mom. Steve hadn't chased housewives like some people did, but Nancy had the prettiest mom in Hawkins, probably. Once upon a time, Steve had been grateful, because he'd thought it meant that when they were married, he'd at least know that Nancy would still be beautiful. Not that he wouldn't have thought she was beautiful anyway, but it was just nice to think about. Now it wasn't. Now Billy was looking at Mrs. Wheeler like he looked at Steve right before they hooked up, the way he had before he'd put Steve's dick in his mouth the first time. Not just the way he looked when he flirted. And Nancy's mom was giving into it. Steve wasn't that smart, but he could read obvious body language like that. He swallowed. 

Okay. Okay then. They'd never said they were exclusive. They hadn't said anything about what they were doing. This was… well, he hated it, but he couldn't do anything about it. Couldn't climb over the fence and shove Billy back into that shed and put more marks all over him. Billy had left. Billy hadn't wasted time hooking up with someone else. Everything they did had been good for Steve, but he guessed it hadn't been that good for Billy. 

He needed to leave. Steve pressed his fists into his eyes and took a deep breath. He needed to leave and go back to his car and go into work. And hey, maybe he needed to put some actual effort into hitting on the girls that came in, instead of just clowning to entertain Robin and to give himself some cover. And he needed to say hello to Dustin, if the kid came by when he had all his friends to see, and when all that was done, he needed to go home and get blind stinking drunk. 

* * *

_Billy practiced smiling slow and easy on the way to meet up with Karen, the way he knew he'd charmed her from the start. It didn't feel easy, not like it did with Harrington, but Harrington didn't matter now. Or he mattered too much. Either way Billy was gonna show up, and he'd either fuck a hot mom or he'd spend a night away from his dad, and it would look like he had. He smiled again. It was fine. It was fine. Loose and charming and just a touch sleazy -_

_Something hit his car. Something was out there. Something was dragging him down. Oh shit, oh fuck, he wanted his mom, he wanted Steve, he wanted to be the fuck away from Hawkins and its creepy murderous abandoned buildings -_

_Then someone - something - else was there. What he wanted didn't matter. And really, when had it ever? Billy didn't know how to fight against this. He sank down, down, down, into a black space. _

* * *

Steve was hungover the next day. But if being King Steve had been good for anything, it was covering up a hangover. He drank half a pot of black coffee, fried two eggs and an entire pan of frozen hash browns, and bolted it all down before pouring the rest of the pot into a thermos and heading into work. The thermos thing was normal by now, and Steve didn't think about how for once it wasn't nightmares keeping him awake, it was the scent of Billy's hair products still sunk into the other pillowcase. He looked tired when he walked into Scoops, but no worse than tired. Robin hadn't caught on to how his slowly fading headache made the fluorescent lights like glass shards in his eyes or to how his stomach still roiled. Steve knew that if she had, she'd give him shit for it. 

And then Dustin was there. Steve had missed him, and it wasn't too much of a chore to put on the happy face, to clown around, to celebrate one of his actual friends being back. It was just what he needed, no matter what Robin had to say about their friendship. He just had to pretend that the news about his girlfriend wasn't like a punch to the gut, after the way Billy had left him high and dry. 

Dustin had a mystery for them to solve, too. And that was even better. Steve could amp up his efforts to hit on girls, he could find out what was going on in Hawkins this time, and he could put Billy Hargrove in his rearview mirror where he belonged. 

* * *

_For a while, there was nothing. There was the dark, the void, and there was Billy. There was whatever was left of Billy, anyway. Occasionally there were… flashes. The chemicals. Karen Wheeler. Heather, with tape on her mouth and rope around her wrists. His dad, and his own mouth repeating the same words he always has. _

_Why didn't you hurt him instead? he begged the shadow thing. He at least deserves it. _

_The shadow thing didn't answer, not in words. But it tugged on Billy's fear, the cold prickle of it that was just for his dad, and the bubbling anger that always came up after a confrontation, and Billy felt something like glee from it. It liked him being miserable, for some godawful reason. That was enough to make him not want to be, but it tugged on his feelings, his memories, until he sank down, down, down again._

* * *

Trying to concentrate on the Russian code was no use. Trying to concentrate on flirting with girls was no use. Trying to concentrate on anything Dustin was saying was no use. It was - actually, it was exactly like back in November, when Nancy said she didn't love him and everything reminded him of her and he was in the middle of a goddamn crisis anyway. He needed to think of anything but Billy, but he couldn't think of anything but Billy. He was glad when Robin sent him and Dustin away. He couldn't stand there and look at the back room, or the goddamn counter, even, any longer.

Even then, though, things reminded him of Billy. Especially that jazzercise instructor. They didn't really look alike, despite their blond hair and cut bodies, but they shared this… physicality, this confidence, that Steve had envied and admired in equal measure. Dustin wanting to talk about Robin was almost a welcome distraction, even if Steve wasn't interested in her. He should have been. Maybe he should let Dustin talk him around to it - she was smart and sarcastic and cute, probably wouldn't hesitate to kick his ass, like he liked. Obviously he needed to get over his crush on Billy. But maybe… not so soon.

* * *

_The sun had been Billy's favorite thing about the Hawkins summer, the only thing that felt like California, but when he was there, it burned him now. The thing in him hated the heat, and he fought just enough that his body could sit by the poolside - covered up, under an umbrella, but still there. He was working out how to work with, against, whatever, the shadow now. He didn't say anything, he just thought things about routine, normality, staying hidden, about suspicion, and it picked up on it. The heat made things a little clearer, and he remembered floating through the day on a cloud of misery. But it was better than that dark pit._

_Then Max was there, and it got hotter and hotter, and he sweated and the shadow hated it but Billy thought, good riddance you bastard, and he was himself again. Max asked him questions, and the hardness in her voice reminded him of right before they left California, and he found himself crying, begging her to believe him. Max knew him better than anyone, now - better than his mom or dad, better than Steve Harrington, although he came close. She knew what he'd done, what he was. He couldn't bear for her to think this was him, no matter how awful he'd been. But that thing, that shadow, was hiding, not gone. The fear, the despair, the desperation Billy felt? It must have fed on them, because he could feel it surging with his tears, and then he was gone again, watching from behind his eyes as it chased down the kids, just like November._

_No, no, no, he begged, but the shadow shoved a memory of his father at him - his father telling him he'd never amount to anything, that he was a no-good pussy queer, that if he didn't straighten out he'd catch something horrible and Neil would put him out on the street, he wouldn't have that shame or taint in his home - and Billy was swept away again, pulled away from his body on a riptide of shadow._

* * *

The fucking Russians. So, like, it wasn't enough for one government to do stupid shit with a horror movie dimension, or whatever. Anything America could do, the Russians had to do bigger and better. His history teacher had tried to say something about that, but it didn't really hit Steve until he was looking at that portal thing. He was exhausted. He'd thought maybe it was something different, for once. But it was always the Upside Down. 

The winning a fight, that was new. He'd tried to channel Billy, for once, and, for once, thinking of him had helped. Not that much, since he was sitting with Robin, drugged to high heaven, but, you know, the kids had gotten away. That was better than last time. Even if he might die here, might get someone else killed here. It was hard to concentrate on that, with how floaty and strange he felt.

There was pain. There was always pain. Steve was getting good at handling it. The drugs helped this time, and he laughed and laughed. The Russians weren't any different than anyone else. The Upside Down always meant Steve getting hurt and losing things. He lost Tommy and Carol, lost Nancy - he should probably take this as a sign that Billy was out of his life for good. The thought only made him laugh harder, with a sick, wild amusement. This was his life now.

Then the kids were back, and Steve wanted to be angry at them, but he couldn't be. Not when he was alive, still, and Robin was too, and they weren't in that cold, sterile underground hole any more.

* * *

_There was a girl, a girl he'd never seen before, in his memories. Was she a creation of the shadow thing? Billy didn't think so. It flowed and moved around her in eddies like it didn't want to touch her. She added color to the void he sat in. Some of his memories came up, spreading through the black like blood in the water. He must have been thinking of water too much, treated the shadow like an ocean, because… there was a beach, and there was his mom. Billy had locked this away, one of the precious few happy recollections that he had. Why had it come up here, now, when he was so miserable? But the shadow didn't seem to want to touch this. Maybe it was the girl, because Billy certainly hadn't been able to fight it._

_He felt a burst of panic, of desperation. Steve was in that same box. Please let her not see Steve. _

_Despite himself, an image formed - not Steve naked, or in a bed, or anywhere else they'd fooled around. It was Steve, standing in his kitchen, holding two plates of pizza rolls, eating with him and smiling. The girl looked at it and frowned, but the deep panic, the fear, that Billy felt at someone else seeing that private Steve, at guessing his secret when he'd tried so hard to keep it, must have pulled other memories forward, and the girl ran towards them._

_And then the shadow took over again, taunting the girl, and the cold fear washed over Billy again, swelling up, up, up, past his ankles, then his waist, then his chest, and finally covering his head, deep black like the void._

* * *

Everything is a blur of light and sound and happiness. This is what Steve wanted when he got drunk - when was that? - anyway, when he got drunk, this was the blurry, soft, giddy reality he wanted. Drinking used to be like that for him, but not any more. He wonders if he could swipe some of the Russian drugs the way Joyce had swiped some from the lab. Then he remembered he wasn't in the Russian base any more, and he tried to concentrate on the screen. But something about the quality of the light - or maybe the salty, cheap food on an empty stomach - made his stomach swoop. He tried to ignore it, swallow it down, the way he always did when he drank too much and Tommy was by his side, slapping his shoulder and teasing him about his tolerance, but soon enough he hit the point of no return and he and Robin have to lurch out of the theater.

They puke, and for once it's kind of nice sharing the misery with someone else. He doesn't wish Robin got captured by the Russians, but at least he's not nursing a concussion at home alone, keeping all the lights off in his bedroom as he hurls into a trash can. This is more like - when he and Tommy and Carol would all crowd into the master bath after parties, and Steve would puke into the toilet and Tommy and Carol would throw up into the matching his and hers sinks. Sometimes it still made Steve grin to think about how much puke those sinks had seen. More than they'd seen toothpaste, probably.

Then Robin asked if he's ever been in love, and he rambled about Nancy, and then Billy, but, oh shit, Robin doesn't know about that, so he has to twist his words, made them about a girl instead, made it - made it about her, because that's what he's supposed to do, right? Have the adventure, get the girl? Maybe he can make one last swing at that, at a normal life.

But - no. Because - "Tammy Thompson," Robin said. "I wanted her to look at me," and she opened up to Steve in a way no one has. He looked at her through his half-shut swollen eye, but he was still half-drugged, must have been, because -

"But Tammy Thompson is a girl," Steve said, stupidly, because no one has ever come out to him before like this. It's all unspoken cues, body language, touches, and it's never sure until he's got a dick in his hand.

"Steve," Robin said, and looked at him.

"I just meant - I lied to you," he said, and Robin just lets him speak. "Not about Nancy, but about the girl. It's not a girl. It's a guy, actually, you know which guy. Billy Hargrove. We were - I thought we had something special, but he hooked up with someone else. So." He leaned back and sniffed. 

Robin reached over and grabbed his hand. "He's a douchebag anyway," she said.

Steve sat up and looked right at her. "Tammy Thompson is a drip!" he said.

"She is not!" Robin said, and they're both rolling laughing, two sad lonely queers, by the time the kids come and get them.

* * *

_Billy doesn't know what's going on. The thing is pushing him down further and further after that girl was there, and if he didn't know better, he'd think it was… scared. It's certainly rushed. All the people… Billy didn't think it wanted to move so fast. It didn't like the girl, and that gives Billy… some kind of hope? Not for him, whatever, his life was over as soon as that black shit slithered down his throat. But for Max and the other kids he'd seen. For the town. In that black void, without anything but its voice and his shittiest memories, it was easy to get angry, to let the black cold fury borne of fear take over, and then when that did nothing, to go numb. But it has to pull on him now, his body, his knowledge, and he can see - flashes._

_For some reason, Billy thought of that girl stirring up the memory of his mom again, but… he can't think of her. Instead, since he's dead anyway, he thought about Steve. Not that last night, not yet. Instead, he thought about that tape, the one he hadn't wanted to think about before, that Steve had put on before kissing the hell out of him that night in his car. Billy had some of the tapes that the songs came off of in his Camaro, and it was an eclectic collection hard to get in Hawkins. He thought about how long Steve must have searched for the different albums, and why. He knew enough from Tommy to know it wasn't Steve's usual thing. This time, Billy let himself think about the implications, that Steve would spend hours looking for music he and Billy could both tolerate. For the first time since this - thing happened, he felt warm, a little bit. Not hot like he was in the sun or the sauna. Just warm. Comfortable. Almost happy._

_And then - it's like his vision clears, like when he gets hit in the head and there's sparks all over his eyes for a moment and they slowly break up and dissipate. He can't control his limbs, not really, but he can see, and he can feel the tips of his fingers and the ends of his toes. He's sitting in the car, and that thing, the shadow, it wants him to move, but… Billy doesn't. He doesn't have to. This little bit of control has him elated, for a moment, until it throws itself into making him a puppet again. He thinks of Steve, again, and Lemmy's voice, and he revs the engine, but that's all he does._

_Take that, fucker, he thinks, with a wild manic glee that almost matches his father's._

_Then it sees - something, some kid, Nancy Wheeler's little brother, and its rage and fear rises up, and Billy fades under again, limbs cold. He made it work for it, though._

* * *

It's - god, Steve can't believe what the fuck is going on. Billy, his Billy, is possessed, and he doesn't know when it happened. Is that why they'd hooked up to begin with? Shit, no, he can't believe that. Billy had been too warm, too human. But Steve - Steve had hit him with a fucking car. And when he has time to process everything that happened, he's going to feel guilt over that to rival his guilt over Barb, he's sure of it. 

Robin - Robin was the only one that knows how hard this is for him, so he sneaks a squeeze of her hand as they run into the mall. She squeezed back.

Then they're throwing fireworks, trying to save Eleven, and - and Steve is trying to save Billy. They saved Will, didn't they? Couldn't they do this? Max said he didn't recognize her, so there's no way he'd recognize Steve, but - he keeps his face above the railing, out of cover, anyway. He looks for an opening. He has to try.

* * *

_The thing panics. The flashes come through stronger and it wanted to push down harder, but soon its attention is split, with the light-heat flashes bursting on its - their? - skin. And the girl. The girl from his memories. She was there. She talked about his mom. "You were happy," she said. She was crying. She touched his face. And then - she didn't say anything, but she tilted her head back, and Billy looked up._

_It was Steve. It was Steve, and Billy didn't know what the hell he was doing here, but between his mom and Steve, he remembered - being happy, he remembered love, he remembered warmth and care, and the shadow, it _shrieks_ in his head, unhappy, and he sat up and screamed right back._

_He knew its secret now. It can't survive the heat, and love and happiness, they're warm. In some storybook metaphor way that's all too real for this alien thing from movies and horror stories. He caught its mouth-tentacle thing, and he thought about his mom, and Max, and most of all Steve-Steve-Steve, and it wilted. It can't touch him. It buffeted him, it stabbed at him, but it flinched away from where it touches him, and Billy laughed and spit out black blood and laughed some more._

_"Come get some!" he yelled at it, and it tried one last time to stab him, and this time he felt the pain, but… it collapses as he bleeds, it melts, and that means he's won, and it's worth it._

* * *

The thing - is gone, but for a moment Steve didn't even register it, because Max keeps screaming and crying for Billy, and that was - it was blood. It was blood all over that white undershirt. Steve gripped the railing so hard his knuckles turned white, and then Robin shoved at him, and he followed Max down, running to him.

Max is crying, grabbing his hand, and she can't even be bothered to look at him weird when he grabs Billy's other hand, squeezes it, before he took off his stupid Scoops shirt, balled it up and applied pressure to the wound. Billy gasped, a harsh choking sound.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Max," Billy said. His breath came in great heaves. Then, "I'm sorry, Steve," too, which was so completely unexpected he and Max both gaped at Billy's face.

"Shut up, it's fine, save your strength," Steve said, at the same time as Max's "I forgive you," and he pushed harder against the blood.

"Shouldn't have run away," Billy said. "See where it got me."

"Think you stood and fought where it counted," Steve said, trying to smile.

"Yeah," Billy said, and then - the cavalry was there, and they tried to take him away. Steve got pulled away, and so did Max, and they watched Billy get loaded into an army truck and get swarmed over like ants on an anthill. Steve was still holding his uniform top, soaked in blood, and he was glad he wore an undershirt. After a minute, he turned to look at Max.

"So we have a lot to talk about, I guess," he said.

Max looked at him a moment, and then she burst out into hysterical laughter, laughter that sounded worse than the crying, and grabbed onto Steve, blood and all.

"Do you think - he'll be okay?" she asked him.

"I don't think they would have bothered with him if he was going to die," he said, too tired and wrung out to be tactful. Not that he ever was.

Max nodded, and they watched the truck pull away before they separated to check on their other friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, Billy isn't dead. We've now reached the point of canon divergence, yaaaay!
> 
> Honestly, this chapter was the one I was most nervous about- I have a new PoV character, a new style of writing, and I have to stick close to canon. I apologize that it's shorter than the rest, but it fought me all the way. I know it's a canon rewrite, but I hope it wasn't boring. I tried to put some space in for my favorite headcanon: that the Mindflayer chose hosts from abusive homes with not a ton of connections (Will obviously has his friends and family, but he's distant from them sometimes!) because it can't handle love and connection and happiness, they make it weaker. Is this supported by canon? Maybe, maybe not. I feel it in my heart, though, so whatever.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No new tags! Just a happy ending for our boys.

The military ended up taking custody of all of them, in the end. All of them who knew about the Upside Down, anyway - Steve heard them on their radios, saying something about "quarantine" and "chemical spill". He didn't listen too closely. He was sure they'd be fed their cover story up, down, and sideways before the military let them leave. The process was a little different than last time - less paperwork, more questioning - but the US government hadn't been in the middle of the shitshow, for once, so Steve guessed they needed to get caught up.

At least they let Scoops Troop stick together. Steve remembered Hopper saying the police couldn't question kids without their parents, and he guessed the military had a similar policy. Neither he nor Robin were related to Dustin or Erica, but he guessed he and the military interrogator both felt better with someone over 18 in the room. The sharp-eyed woman with the clipped voice and tight bun asked them question after question, mostly relating to the Russian code and the layout of the base. Steve repeated what he remembered, over and over again, until she was satisfied. He and Robin had to submit a blood sample in case there were still traces of the drugs in their system, but then they were released into a big meeting room with everyone else.

Steve found Joyce and sat next to her - she had one hand on Will's head where he'd fallen asleep on her lap and her eyes on Jonathan, curled into Nancy. Eleven was on Will's other side, red-eyed and blank-faced. "I didn't see Hopper, is he…?" Steve said, unsure how to finish the sentence. Getting treatment? Gone?

Joyce shook her head, face wan. "The Russian machine," she said. "I had to… take care of it. He was in the room." She bit her lip, and a few tears escaped.

Steve covered her free hand with his own and squeezed. He didn't know what to say. He wasn't exactly a poet usually, but this was especially bad. It seemed to be enough, though. She turned her hand over and squeezed back, hard, and then took two deep breaths and seemed to pull herself together. 

"I thought I saw Max's brother, before, getting put into a truck," she said. "Was he…"

"I think he's getting treated somewhere," Steve said, biting his lip as he thought about Billy, dark blood all over his shirt. "He, uh. He fought it, at the end. Maybe killed it."

Joyce sighed. "Well, I'm glad," she said. "Hop would never want to know he lived at the cost of a kid. Even a kid who acts like _that_."

"He's not that bad," Steve protested. It had been a long day. Billy had saved El, nearly died, maybe. He couldn't help but defend him.

Joyce looked at him frankly - his bloody face, his bruises, which he guessed looked a lot like they had when she'd cleaned him up in November. "Well, I guess you and Max would be the best judges," she said. 

Steve's sharp-eyed interrogator appeared at the door just then. "Mrs. Byers," she said, making her way across the room. "Could you and - the girl -" 

"El," Joyce said, in a sweet voice with a stern face.

"El," the interrogator agreed - "come with me? We may have some information for you."

El hadn't looked up at the sound of her name. Joyce shifted Will awake - he woke up just enough to move to Jonathan's lap instead - and put her hand on El's knee. 

"Hey, sweetie," she said, in that gentle mom-way that always made Steve's chest ache. "These people need to talk to us again."

El shifted, and a little life seemed to come to her eyes. "Jim?" she asked the interrogator.

"It's about Jim, yes," the woman agreed. Joyce's smile dimmed for a moment, before she pasted it back on and helped El up.

"We'll be back," she told Steve, squeezing his shoulder, before following the woman out of the room.

Steve looked around. Most of the kids were exhausted, sprawled across the floor in little piles or leaning against the wall, almost all of them forgoing the table and chairs in the center of the room. Dustin seemed to be asleep with his hat pulled over his face. Mike was sulky and set apart from most of them, but he was close to Nancy, even if he wasn't looking at her. Jonathan was mindlessly stroking Will's hair while he held Nancy against his opposite shoulder. Erica was curled up asleep next to Lucas, who was holding Max's hand. Max sat cross-legged against the wall, staring at her lap. No one had let her wash her hands, Steve saw. Billy's blood was still flaking across them, drying up.

"Hey, Max," he said, voice hoarse from too many rounds with the interrogator with no water. She looked up at him, face puffy and worn. "Let's find a bathroom, huh? Think we both need to wash up." He waved at his face with as much of a smile as he could manage at the moment.

Max disentangled her hand from Lucas's - he was half-asleep himself - and stood up. Dustin stood up with her, though.

"I gotta go too," he said. "They haven't let us alone long enough to pee before now!"

This wasn't exactly what Steve had in mind, but he figured that this room was being watched, so he wasn't about to make a scene. "Fine, come on," he said. "Just be quiet, half of you shitheads are asleep already."

Max waited until they were two hallways away to speak up. Smart kid. Steve had always thought so.

"So what are we actually doing? If we were really finding a bathroom we could have just asked someone," she said.

"We're not actually going to the bathroom?" Dustin said, and he sounded kind of pathetic.

"I mean, we can probably make a pit stop, but we're going to find Max's brother first," Steve said. He should probably feel worse about taking two kids around a covert military installation, but it wasn't even the first time this week. Maybe even the first time today. He'd lost some time drugged up, so he didn't know. At least Max and Dustin had both started puberty, had some kind of idea what it was like to deal with the government.

"Billy?" Dustin whisper-shrieked. "We're sneaking around a fucking army base for _Billy_? The same Billy that threatened us and _beat your face in_?" 

"Shut up!" Max hissed. "He saved us all, too! Or did you forget that part?"

"No," Dustin said, "but I don't know if makes up for almost killing Steve!"

"Steve says it does," Steve said, tired of this already. "And he didn't almost kill me, Dustin, Jesus."

"He kind of did," Max said, rolling her eyes. Her arms were wrapped tight around herself, though. 

"Yeah, well, he made it up to me," Steve said, not thinking. Then he winced. Shit.

"Made it up to you?" Dustin cried.

"Shhh!" Steve snapped. "We're not exactly supposed to be here!"

"Sorry," Dustin whispered. "But how the hell does somebody make up for beating you up like that?"

"He did me a favor," Steve said, avoiding Max's eye. She had a funny look on her face, and she'd be the one who knew more about what Billy was up to than anyone else. "And even if he didn't, I don't think he deserves to be disappeared by the government, or - experimented on, or whatever."

"You think they'd do that?" Max asked. Her face paled.

"I dunno," Steve said, looking at her. "But they funded the research on El. So I'd rather not give them the chance."

Even Dustin seemed to be in agreement on that, and they made their way through brightly-lit metal hallways until they heard some bustle and the sounds of medical equipment. There were too many people, though, and they ducked into an empty room to strategize.

"Now what?" Max asked.

"Now we create a distraction," Dustin said, already searching around the room. Steve guessed that after rescuing him and Robin from interrogation, this was old hat.

Just then, there was a scream from further in, and something that made the lights flicker and a few bulbs down the hall break. Then, there was a crackle of static from a few rooms away, and the sound of running feet.

"Looks like we won't need to," Steve said. His heart was racing, but he was trying to keep a cool head for the kids.

"Should we… check that out?" Dustin said, clearly hesitant to go on.

"It's a military base," Steve said, even though his hands itched for his bat. "Let the military handle it." He just. He had to see what was happening with Billy. If he was even still alive.

They waited for the hubbub to die down and then followed the sound of a heart monitor beeping. And there was Billy, cleaned up and bandaged, sleeping in a hospital gown on a cot.

Steve's knees went weak and he had to grab onto the doorway for support. Max didn't notice, thankfully, rushing to the bed to clutch Billy's hand, but Dustin gave him a knowing look while he stood beside him. Steve would deal with that later - they'd had a very confusing conversation about an A-Ha album cover that spring, so he was pretty sure Dustin knew he messed around with guys sometimes, but that wasn't important. What was important was Billy was alive. Alive and - judging by the amount of bandaging on him - not that bad off. He had an IV and was hooked up to machines, but he looked much better, cleaned up. All Steve had remembered had been the blood all over his Scoops shirt, all over Max. To hear a machine assure him of Billy's heartbeat after that was - well. It was knee-weakening.

After a few breaths, Steve was able to straighten up, even if he couldn't take his eyes off the bed. There was a touch to his elbow, and Steve moved forward automatically. He looked down once he hit the foot of the bed. Dustin was looking up at him, and when he saw Steve was paying attention, he winked. Steve grinned at him, as much as he could, and had to swallow a lump in his throat. These kids. Whatever Dustin said about Billy, he could tell Steve was feeling something, and he wanted to help - not no questions asked, but maybe it meant more because of that.

Slowly, carefully, Steve sat down at the foot of the bed, his hand on the lump of one shin beneath the blankets. He didn't think Billy had been hurt there, at least. Max sat near the head, holding Billy's hand, occasionally stroking his hair in the most mom-like gesture Steve had ever seen her make. Dustin sat on what must be a doctor's stool near the doorway, slumped against the wall but with his eyes on the hall. Steve started counting the beeps of Billy's heart monitor for lack of anything better to do. He'd gotten up past six hundred before someone disturbed them.

"Hey, guys?" Dustin said, pushing off against the wall with a clatter as he rolled over to them.

"Yeah?" Steve said, struggling out of his zone. Had he heard footsteps? Max grunted but otherwise didn't acknowledge them. 

A man with the harried air of overworked nurses everywhere came into the room before Dustin could finish. "You kids can't be here," he said. "This is a secure government institution."

Max looked up, fire in her eyes. "And you can't question me without my mom there, but you did that just fine earlier," she said. 

The nurse spluttered. "I am not responsible -"

"For what?" Max snapped, clenching her hands into fists and turning to face him. "For following orders? For going along when someone else does something illegal? We had trials about that, you know. It doesn't hold up in court!" 

"Oh my god, Max, are you seriously comparing the army to fucking Nazis?" Dustin asked, ignoring how red in the face the nurse was getting.

"They're the ones that experimented on a little kid!" Max shrieked, standing up now, hair flying as she whipped her gaze between Dustin and the hospital bed. "They might experiment on Billy when he can't even say yes! They deserve it! They deserve -"

She was interrupted by a groan from the bed, and Billy stirred enough to press the hand Max wasn't holding to his face. "Jesus, Max, will you give it a rest?" he moaned, half incoherent, and Steve grabbed onto his leg harder than he meant to as he took a deep breath.

"You asshole," Max yelled, not quite at top volume but not much below it either, "I was defending you!" She sniffled and sat back down, ignoring how the nurse tried to shoo her away to take a look at Billy.

"Could you do it a little quieter?" Billy asked, his voice raspy like it was after - well. Steve shoved that thought down. "My head hurts bad enough without you carrying on."

Max instantly looked contrite. "Sorry," she said at a more normal volume.

The nurse had given up on trying to get her to move, and instead flitted around making notes as he checked the readouts on the machines. "If you can keep calm," he said, tone making clear how likely he thought _that _was, "I suppose there's no harm in you staying with the patient until you're ready to be returned to your parents." 

"We _were _calm and quiet until you got here," Max said hotly, but she subsided when Steve kicked her ankle. 

"We did sneak around a secure military base, Mad Max," he pointed out. "Man's doing us a favor. We could be escorted out of here by guys with guns."

"Or we could have gotten a Russian-style interrogation!" Dustin interjected from the corner. "Steve got that. We don't want it."

Steve laughed a little, low. "We're American citizens, bud. Pretty sure we have rights that prevent that kind of thing," he said. "Well, that and, like. My dad throws a lot of fundraising dinners for the senior senator here. Pretty sure this is the one thing he could help me out with."

"What, seriously?" Dustin asked. The nurse was looking at him with a little interest, too, a little less like he was getting ready to throw them out at the slightest clamor.

"Yeah, why do you think he's always gone?" Steve asked. "Pretty sure he's in DC right now."

Billy laughed from up at the head of the bed. "Well, well. You've got connections, Harrington."

"Pretty sure we decided it's Steve now," Steve said without thinking. Max and Dustin turned to look at him, identical looks of surprise on their faces. Billy looked pretty surprised too.

"Steve, yeah," he said after a few moments. "I remember."

The nurse coughed into the middle of the awkward silence. "I need to examine your wound, Mr. Hargrove," he said. "Do you prefer privacy?" 

Billy laughed, a wheezy chuckle. "From them? Nah," he said. "Pretty sure Steve and Max saw it when it was worse than it is now, and the other kid isn't all that interested in eyeing me up."

Dustin made a theatrical gagging sound. "For your _information_, even if I was interested in assholes, I have a girlfriend," he said.

"Wonderful," the nurse cut in, before they could start up a proper back and forth. He was quick to catch on to how much those kids could talk, Steve thought. "Then, miss, I just need you to move so I can get to the bandages."

Max stood up and reluctantly backed off as the man snapped on gloves and did a few things that made Billy hiss. "Well, you seem to be healing remarkably well," the man said eventually. "You're taking well to the volumetric replacements, no sign of shock or infection or secondary bleeding, and all foreign matter has been successfully removed from the site. I see no reason you can't be discharged to a general hospital - or even to the care of your normal physician - by tonight."

"Tonight?" Max asked. She sounded more concerned than relieved.

"Tonight," the man confirmed.

"What time even is it?" Billy asked. Steve was pretty interested in that himself. It had been fairly late by the time he drove back to the mall, he remembered that much.

The man checked his watch. "It's just after six-thirty in the morning," he said. No wonder Steve was so fucking tired.

"What - what day?" Billy asked.

"July fifth, Mr. Hargrove. I'm sorry you missed the fireworks."

The rest of them all exchanged a look and burst out into slightly hysterical laughter, which seemed to alarm the nurse. "I - I saw a few," Billy managed, before starting to laugh again.

The nurse shook his head and visibly decided to wash his hands of them. "Well, at least there's that," he said. "Someone will want to talk to you when they hear you're awake, but I suppose you can have visitors until then." He shook his head and left the room at a good clip.

After a few moments, they all calmed down, but even though it hadn't really been that funny, Steve felt better. Looking around the room, he figured the others did too. Max had lost some of the tension at the corners of her mouth, and Dustin's shoulders were actually relaxed. Billy was still fidgeting with the blankets, but that could be a cigarette craving more than anything.

"So why the hell am I in an army hospital?" he asked, after the room was quiet for a bit. 

"I don't think this even counts as a hospital," Steve said. "More like a medical ward on a base."

"Whatever," Billy said. "Why am I here and not Hawkins General?"

Steve winced. Jesus. Billy didn't know about any of this shit. "Well, you know, uh, the thing? The monster?"

Billy's mouth clenched up tight and he clutched the blankets. "Yeah, I know it," he said in a monotone. 

"Well…" Steve said and trailed off. How did he even start?

"So there's this parallel dimension," Dustin jumped in, and they were off, he and Max, explaining the weird side of Hawkins. Billy just listened, face pale. He didn't ask any questions until the end. When Max and Dustin were done, he said, "So that thing."

"The Mind Flayer," Dustin provided.

"The Mind Flayer, sure. It could come back. It did before."

"Maybe," Max said honestly. "But our friend - she's pretty sure it's actually dead this time, not just stuck over there."

"The girl?" Billy asked. "Short curly hair?"

"Yeah," Max said slowly. "Why?"

"She was… in my head," Billy said. "She helped me throw that thing out."

Max threw Dustin a triumphant look, like El's help was some kind of stamp of approval. She didn't need to, though. Billy just letting Dustin talk seemed to have scored him some points. "Well, then you have nothing to worry about," Max said. "You threw him out once, you can do it again." She didn't mention that El's powers didn't seem to be working right now. No need to get Billy worked up, Steve guessed.

Billy did look cheered by that. "Guess so," he said. 

There was another commotion down the hall, and they all looked up as a team wheeled a gurney past. And - Joyce and El were running behind it? Steve rushed to the doorway to see if he could catch them.

"Mrs. Byers!" he called.

She turned around, fast, big eyes bigger with shock. "Steve?" she said, and then glanced back towards the gurney like she couldn't help herself.

"We went and found Billy," he told her. "What's going on?"

"They found Hop," she said. "He got caught in the explosion, but he was in the Upside Down. They needed El to find him. They said as long as he stays stable in the next three hours, he should pull through." She bit her lip, eyes shining.

"That's - that's great, really," Steve said, smiling.

Joyce nodded, smiling through her tears. "Do you have any of the kids with you?" she asked. "They're going to start sending them home to their parents - Jonathan is going to take Will, and I'm staying here with El. They should go back to the room so they can go home."

"Yeah - yeah, you're right," Steve said. "I'll get them back, but I'm staying. I won't keep you, but come find me if you need me."

"Okay," Joyce said, looking back down the hallway, where El was hovering just out of the way of the stream of medical professionals in and out of a room. "And it's Joyce, Steve, I've told you before." She walked away and put a hand on El's shoulder, drawing her into a hug.

"What is it?" Dustin asked as soon as he walked back into Billy's room. Max looked up too.

"They found Hop, he's alive," Steve said, grinning despite the pain in his face. "And you two need to go home."

There were two very different reactions from the kids. Dustin pushed his hat out of his face, a huge grin stretching across it. Max, on the other hand, whirled around with a murderous expression pointed at Steve. "Go _home_?" she demanded.

"Yeah, you know, home," Steve said. "That place where your parents are? Your parents who have been missing you for at least like, twelve hours now, in the middle of some big disaster on the news, probably worried sick?" 

"Well, they can stay worried," Max spat. "I'm staying with Billy." She turned her back to Steve, like if she stopped responding, the conversation was over.

Too bad for her. Steve had been dealing with way worse passive-aggressive bullshit than that for years. He crossed his arms and drew in a breath, but Billy interrupted him.

"You need to go home, Max," he said, gripping her hand. "Worry about yourself. Not me."

Max scoffed. "Don't tell me what to do," she said. "I'm not gonna listen to you."

Billy laughed. "I'm the voice of experience, Mad Max," he said. "Take it into consideration, at least. Don't make your mom worry any more than she's got to."

Steve watched her knuckles go white on the rails of Billy's bed. "I don't want to leave," she said. "I stopped watching you once and you got possessed! What if you get disappeared by the government this time?" Horrifyingly, she sniffed, and Steve tried not to panic at the idea of tough girl Max Mayfield crying for the second time that day. 

It was kind of his fault, though, for putting the idea in her head, so he blurted, "I'll stay."

Max, Dustin, _and _Billy all turned to stare at him. Steve faltered for a moment under the attention, then soldiered on. "My parents aren't home, and they won't check the news until tomorrow, anyway, probably. I can stay long enough to make sure Billy gets out of here okay. Maybe you can smooth things over with your parents for him, Max?" he suggested. She looked worn thin and exhausted. She really did need to go home.

"Neil's not my dad," Max said, at the same time as Billy said, "Susan's not my mom." They both used the same disgusted tone and had the same disgruntled look on their faces. Steve struggled not to laugh as they turned and looked at each other, evidently hearing the same thing he did. Then Max continued, "And Neil's…" She grimaced. "He's gonna be really mad Billy disappeared for so long, no matter what the army comes up with."

"He's not gonna get less mad with you gone," Billy said pragmatically.

Max deflated. "Guess not," she said. "I just - I want you coming back someplace you can rest."

Billy shrugged. "We'll work that out when I'm outta here," he said. "You should go. Get some sleep. Feed your mom and my old man some bullshit. I'll be alright. I've got a bodyguard now." He threw a teasing wink at Steve, who flushed despite himself.

"Fine," Max said. She turned to Steve. "Don't let him out of your sight!" she said, and stomped off. Dustin followed her with one last curious look at Steve and Billy, and Steve heard the nurse from earlier talking to them out in the hall. Good. At least maybe they'd have an escort out of here.

"Can't help but notice the kids didn't tell me what happened to you," Billy said, gesturing at Steve's face. He hadn't taken a look at it since he and Robin were in the bathroom together, but he remembered what he'd looked like after Billy had gone after him last year, or Jonathan the year before, and he was sure it didn't look much different now. Same shit, different day. This was the third year in a row.

"All this shit happened because Russians opened a gate under the mall," Steve said. "Guess they have to learn why it's a bad idea the hard way. We found it and me and Robin got caught. Interrogated, I guess. They didn't believe we worked for Scoops even when I talked about the uniform."

"What, they thought you worked for a porno company instead or something?" Billy said, with a ghost of the leer he'd normally give Steve. 

Steve rolled his eyes. "No, they thought we were spies. I barely graduated. How the hell am I supposed to remember all the shit spies need to know?"

"Well, you're the distraction, obviously, and the girl - Robin - is the brains," Billy said. "Like in James Bond."

Steve laughed. "I wish. They'd probably pay better." 

"Well, maybe the government will cut you a check for infiltrating a Russian base anyway. Matter of national security and all that," Billy said.

"I didn't get hush money last year, why would I now?" Steve said. "You might, though. Will's family got some kind of monthly payment, I think. I know they picked up his medical bills, so you're covered."

"That'd be nice," Billy said. "Since I'm pretty sure the pool is gonna fire me for missing so much work and the damages. If it's enough, I can leave. Go back to California."

Steve suddenly found his hands very interesting as he picked at his cuticles. He hadn't forgotten that Billy had been a summer fling, really - a summer fling who'd moved on, at that. It just hadn't seemed important in the middle of the blood and chaos. It was seeming a little more relevant now.

"Is that why you left my house that morning?" he asked, daring a glance up at Billy. "Or did you not like - what we did? Or - was it the Mind Flayer?" He didn't think it had been, but. He had to ask.

Billy looked as uncomfortable as Steve felt. Maybe he should have waited to ask until the guy wasn't in a fucking hospital bed, but Steve had grown up in a house full of speaking silences and poorly glossed over arguments. He couldn't stand to do it here.

"It wasn't, uh, the thing," Billy said, staring over Steve's shoulder at the blank wall. "It wasn't bad, either." He clenched his hands before looking back over and making eye contact. "Fact is, Steve, I wish I'd stayed. Not just cause of what you promised me, but -" he sighed and looked down, messing with the blankets.

"Come here," he said. "I know their interrogators or whatever will probably want to get ahold of me, but I don't want them in my business any more than I have to."

Steve slid closer until he was sitting where Max had been, close enough to grab Billy's hands. "Probably a good idea," he said. He didn't particularly want his gay hookups on some government intelligence document forever.

Billy smiled slightly. "Anyway. The uh. The Mind Flayer? It got me when I was on my way to meet up with Karen. Uh, Mrs. Wheeler. And, I guess, if I'd stayed with you, like I wanted to, if I hadn't run away like a little pussy, it wouldn't have gotten me, I don't think. And… all those people would still be alive." He looked over at the wall again.

Steve almost couldn't breathe. That was… a lot to take in. Billy had wanted to stay? Billy was scared of something and that's why he was talking to Mrs. Wheeler? But he had left. He had meant to sleep with her. Did it matter? They hadn't made commitments to each other. He'd told himself that a million times since he'd seen them. He took in a deep breath, slightly shaky. He'd been willing to apologize to Nancy when she'd done worse. The least he could do was hear Billy out, try to figure out what was going on.

"You said… you wished you'd stayed," he said. "I wish you'd stayed too. But… why did you leave?" What were you scared of?, he thought but left unspoken.

"Has Max said anything about my dad?" Billy asked. His voice was heavy and serious.

"She doesn't like him," Steve said, racking his brain for any other tidbit. "He's kind of a control freak, I guess?"

Billy snorted. "Way more than kind of," he said. "He knows I like guys. He, uh, caught me kissing this guy goodbye one time. Made my life and his life hell 'til he packed us up and moved us. Calling the cops on us both all the time, breaking shit, telling my friends' parents I stole from him and did drugs so they wouldn't let me around any more, shit like that. Now he keeps an eye on where I am, what I'm doing all the time, so I won't embarrass him or some shit." He looked down and clenched his hands harder on the blankets. "That's why I was careful about what we were doing. If he found out about you - he's gonna be shit to me no matter what. But once I get some money, I can leave. You've got all those kids and friends and shit here. He could make it so you couldn't stay. And that couldn't happen. Not because of me. I've fucked up enough lives already." He sniffled and ducked his head.

Steve couldn't help himself. He covered Billy's white-knuckled hand with his own and squeezed. Shockingly, Billy let go of the blanket almost immediately and turned his hand to grab onto Steve's, hard. He took in a shaky breath, and Steve gripped back.

"Okay, I get that, kind of," Steve said. "Your dad's a fucking asshole. But why would you think he'd find out about us? You said it yourself. We were careful. I think everybody at that first party still thinks we went off to fight or something."

Billy sighed. "That morning, before I came into the mall? He was asking why I was out all night, who I was with. I didn't mean to meet up with you later. I just - I felt like shit, and you made me feel better, Steve. Nobody's… done that for me. Not in a long time. And then I woke up, and we were - we were close, and I realized that - that I really - like you," he said, hesitating as he tried to find the right words. "And I lose my fucking head when I like somebody. I lost it with you already, going back again and again when I said it was the last time. And that made you dangerous."

"You asshole," Steve said, blinking back tears. "I can keep a fucking secret. You know that now, I guess, but did you guess I liked dick before the party? I really fucking like you too, and I went to the pool that day, to see if I did something wrong, and it fucking killed me to see you flirting with Nancy's mom. It was like when she went off with Jonathan all over again." He squeezed Billy's hand harder.

"You saw that?" Billy said. His voice was hoarse. "Shit, Steve. I just meant it to get back to you so you wouldn't take me back. Maybe back to my dad so he'd leave me be. I didn't want you to see it. I didn't know you were feeling like that."

"I made you a mixtape!" Steve said, voice maybe a little louder than he'd meant it to be. Shit. He lowered it and leaned in a little closer. "You know I had to drive an hour just to get some of those tapes those came off of? I had to special order the Motorhead one. It came from England. I had to listen to so many of them to find ones I could stand, but I did it before we even hooked up because I knew you liked it. You beat the shit out of me in November and I let you in my _house_. And then you left." 

Shit, that was whiny. He didn't mean it to be. Steve bit his lip.

"Well, when you put it like that, I sound like a dipshit for not getting it," Billy joked. His eyes were watery too. "I've been a fuckup and an asshole so long I guess I forgot people might like me too. Guess you and Max showed me."

"Guess so," Steve said. "Look, I - I get it, I guess. I've been looking for someone to like me for real for months, but I didn't think you would. So - I'm not mad you left. I know why now. But you never said. Are you still going to California?" His voice cracked.

Billy shifted in bed. "I just gotta get out of that house," he said. "If I stay here, in Hawkins? It's gonna be hard to not run into my dad. That's why I wanted to leave. Go back where I had friends. But I've got people here, now, I guess. If you'll have me. For real this time."

Steve swallowed. "Yeah," he said. "I would." He was almost glad for the pain in his face, the IV in Billy's arm. It made this feel - less like a dream. He grinned, looking down at their joined hands, and then leaned in so his breath just brushed Billy's ear. "Think I owe you something anyway," he murmured. "From last time."

Billy's hand spasmed. "I'm hooked up to a fucking heart monitor," he hissed. 

"Better take some deep breaths then," Steve advised. Knowing that Billy felt the way he did, that he wouldn't be leaving, that he wanted to do more than fuck around, made him feel powerful in the same way that having Billy panting and tied down underneath him had.

"You're more of an asshole than anyone gives you credit for, pretty boy," Billy said, and shoved him gently back.

* * *

If they had really wanted to, the military probably could have separated them, but they didn't. The interrogators were probably frustrated, but they didn't let it show in their faces, and Steve talked big about his dad until they let him sit quietly in a corner and sign even more paperwork. In truth, after the fight he and his dad had gotten into about his job, his grades, and his future, he wasn't sure what he'd do if Steve called him up, but no one here had to know that. And throwing his dad and his wealth around like he used to was worth it for the way Billy's eyes darted to him every so often as he answered questions.

They did get Billy alone for some kind of examination, but Steve recognized Doctor Owens, so he was content to lean against the door, arms crossed, listening to the rise and fall of voices as his head nodded against his chest. He must have fallen into a doze, because his eyes jolted open as the door slammed.

"Good thing we worked out that I was gonna stay," Billy said, voice rough, "cause I can't leave Hawkins for a year anyway, according to the shit I just signed." 

"Shit," Steve said, blinking. "That sucks." He was too tired to come up with something better.

"Yeah," Billy said with a tight smile. "I'm in good enough shape to leave here, though. And not in an ambulance." 

"That's… good?" Steve tried. From Billy's expression, it wasn't the answer he hoped for.

"It's too late to wake my dad up, and I don't have my keys," Billy said. "Somebody is gonna drive us back, since our cars aren't here, but you mind if I bunk up with you tonight?" 

Steve's brain finally kicked in. Of course Billy didn't want to go deal with his dad after this. "Yeah, of course," he said, patting at his own pockets. Somehow he'd kept ahold of his wallet and his keys. Guess the Russians thought there was no way he'd have anything but fakes. "When can we go? I'm asleep on my feet."

"Now," Doctor Owens said from behind Billy. "Corporal Lewis will drive you home."

Steve barely remembered the drive back. At least the military monitoring him was good for one thing, he thought, semi-hysterically as he watched the streets go by through half-open lids. He didn't have to give Corporal Lewis directions. The man already knew where to go.

He and Billy stumbled in, half-leaning on each other, and made their way up to Steve's room. The only reason Steve didn't shed what was left of his Scoops uniform as he went was because he wasn't sure he could stay upright for it. They both practically fell into bed before they could wriggle out of their clothes, and Steve spent a moment staring at Billy - the fall of his lashes, the curve of his mouth - before he reached up to touch his face.

Billy opened his eyes reluctantly. "Clothes," he said. He was in his own stained jeans and an army-provided undershirt. "They're gross. Gotta get 'em off."

Steve smiled. "You trying to start something, baby?" he asked. He relished not having to hold that word back or panic when it slipped out.

"I wish," Billy said. "Think I gotta sleep for about a thousand years first, though. Rain check, pretty boy?"

"Rain check," Steve agreed. "You're right about the clothes, though." Instead of working on his own, he reached over and started working Billy's shirt off, careful of the bandage on his side.

Billy smiled and cooperated, and when he was naked, undressed Steve and pulled him against him. God, it was good to have Billy naked and smiling in his bed, curled around him. Steve took in a deep breath, and not even the smell of hospital and sweat could ruin this. Between one breath and another, he fell into a sleep.

It was dark when he woke up, but there was a touch of gray that said the sun might rise soon. Steve had gotten pretty familiar with the different types of darkness in the past year and a half. Billy was asleep on him, lying on his uninjured side, and it was almost like he got to have a redo of that shitty fucking morning. But better, maybe, because he knew Billy's secrets and Billy knew his. They'd have to sneak around, but they had a real chance.

Steve stroked his fingers through Billy's curls. They were tangled and kind of dirty, but Billy was here, after everything, after the possession, so he didn't care. Steve probably didn't smell like roses either, but Billy was on his shoulder, face pressed to his neck despite it.

After a few moments of the hair-petting, Billy stirred. "Steve?" he asked in a voice rough from sleep.

"Yeah," Steve said quietly.

"How much of that shit was a dream?" Billy asked.

"I dunno," Steve said. "The monster, the psychic little girl, the getting stabbed in the mall, that was all real." Billy shifted so he could look up at him. "I know _that_," he said. "The bad shit is always real. I'm talking about the rest of it. You really want me like that? To stay and be with you?"

Steve pulled him into a kiss. There was simply no other way to answer that kind of question. Their breath, the grime on their skin - none of it mattered. What mattered was kissing Billy so deep and so long that he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt how much Steve wanted him here, to stay.

"That answer your question?" he asked, breaking off after a few minutes of kissing that seemed both endless and not long enough.

"Shit," Billy said, licking his lips. "I dunno, pretty boy. Better do it again just in case."

That Steve could do. He pressed his lips to Billy's again, moving slowly and deeply. When he touched his tongue to Billy's mouth, the other boy opened up easily. God. It had been less than a week, but Steve had almost forgotten how good it was when Billy let him do what he wanted. He was pliant under Steve's mouth, letting him lick into every corner. Every movement made Steve burn, possessive, and he was pushing Billy over and biting at his mouth before he could stop himself. 

Billy groaned and pushed his hips into Steve's. They were both getting hard fast - Steve had woken up half-hard from the warm weight on him anyway - and the simple friction felt so good. Steve shoved Billy flat onto the bed and pressed him into it with his full body weight. He had to touch Billy with his whole body. 

Billy gasped, though, and not in a good way. Steve backed off. "Shit," he said. "You're hurt. I forgot." He made to get off Billy. 

"Not that hurt," Billy said, and pulled him back down. "Just don't lay right on it, and it'll be fine."

Still, Steve hesitated, stroking Billy's uninjured side. "I don't wanna hurt you," he said. "You were just in the hospital."

Billy made a frustrated noise and bucked his hips against Steve's, rubbing their hard-ons together in a way that made Steve's brain go a little fuzzy. "The only way you'll hurt me," he said, low and sexy right into Steve's ear, "is if you don't fuck me like I've been gagging for." He bit Steve's ear, almost too sharp to be hot. 

But not quite. Steve did some rubbing of his own before he put his hands on Billy's shoulders, pushing him flat to the bed. "What makes you think that you can boss me around, huh?" he asked, leaning in and keeping his weight off the wound. "Pretty sure that's not how this works." He pinched Billy's nipple, vicious, with no warning, and enjoyed the little flinch. 

"You were gonna stop," Billy said, eyes on Steve. "I gotta know it's not a dream." He pressed into Steve's hands, not to escape but to feel the weight of him. 

That hit Steve right where he lived. He bent down to kiss Billy again, slow and dirty. He'd kissed a lot of people, but Billy was the only one who both let him take the lead and surrendered so beautifully to what Steve wanted to do. He sucked Billy's bottom lip into his mouth and worked it until it was puffy before he broke away. 

"It's not a dream, baby. But if you need me to get inside you to prove it, I will. Just my way." He grinned and watched Billy's head fall back on the pillow, ready to take what Steve was going to give him. 

"As long as you do sometime today," Billy said, grinning right back.

Steve made a point of looking out the window, where the sky was just now beginning to turn pink. "There's a lot of today left," he said, nipping down Billy's chest. "Sure you wanna make that your condition?" 

Billy glanced out the window, and then back to where Steve was licking lines down his twitching and. "Yeah," he said, voice hoarse. "Think so."

For that, Steve sucked a massive hickey just under the v-cut of Billy's hip, enjoying the way he squirmed under the pressure of Steve's teeth and lips. He pulled back to admire the pretty picture it made, already purpling. "All right then," he said, voice soft. "Hand me the lube out of the nightstand."

For all his big talk, he was as desperate to be inside Billy as Billy was to have him. But he couldn't shake the feeling that if he didn't make it good enough, Billy wouldn't stick around. They'd talked about this enough that he wanted it to be as good as it could be. But at the same time, he wanted deep inside Billy, in the deep tight heat he'd felt with his fingers. 

When Billy passed him the lube, Steve pushed his hips back down on the bed. "Spread your legs," he said, and bit Billy, hard, on the crease of his thigh where it met his ass when he did. Billy's cock jumped, and Steve's stomach twisted pleasantly. He loved watching Billy love what he did to him.

When his fingers were wet, he slid one inside Billy, slowly but surely. He didn't want to fuck around with teasing too much this time. 

"If I didn't want to fuck you so bad, I might finger you til you cried," he told Billy conversationally. He pictured it. Billy's cock red and wet and desperate, Billy's face the same as Steve played with him inside. His pulse picked up and his dick twitched. "Would you like that, baby?" He twisted his finger. 

"Uhh," Billy groaned, and then heaved in a breath. "Yeah, I'd like it. Would you - how many fingers would you get up in me?" He moved restlessly, grinding down on Steve's hand. 

Steve pulled back and carefully added another finger, sliding them in and watching Billy shiver. "I dunno. How many do you think it would take to make you cry?" He angled his wrist up and curled the fingers inside Billy, just giving his sweet spot the slightest glancing pressure. 

It still made Billy twitch like he'd been hit by electricity. "Fuck, _Steve_," he said. "I - uh, uh - I think it might take your whole hand."

Steve's whole body got hot, and he shoved his fingers into Billy maybe harder than he meant to, pressing on his prostate hard. It made Billy throw his head back and moan so loud it was almost a yell, so he wasn't complaining. "Yeah, you're a tough guy," he said, breathless and turned on. "I think it might take my whole hand up inside you to get you like that. But you could take it." He tugged at Billy's rim and then fucked his fingers back in, angling away from the good spot now. Billy's cock was getting wet with precum, and Steve didn't want him to get too turned on to properly enjoy the moment when he pushed in. 

"Fuck yeah I could," Billy said, grunting in frustration when Steve's fingers missed his sweet spot. "I'd be so fucked out after. So loose. Would you like that?"

Steve slid one more finger in, watching them disappear into Billy's body and picturing how red and loose his hole would be after he pulled his whole hand out, made so much room inside of him. "Yeah," he said, panting. "You'd be so sore, so loose, you could barely keep me in. You'd be sloppy." He ducked down to suck on the head of Billy's dick so no more ridiculous bullshit could come out of his mouth.

Billy squirmed under him. "I'm close," he said in a strangled voice. Steve pulled off, and Billy panted for a minute. "I'm fucking ready, please, please," he said after he caught his breath.

Yeah, okay, Steve was ready too. He scrambled for the nightstand and tossed a condom to Billy - his hands were too slick to get the wrapper open - and then hissed when Billy rolled it onto him. Steve was hanging onto his control by a thread by now, and he hadn't expected that.

"Lay back," he said to Billy. "Hands above your head. Don't move them."

Billy's hands practically flew up, and he spread his legs even wider as Steve got between them. "Yeah," he breathed, keeping his eyes on Steve.

Steve pushed in. The feeling was like - he didn't have words. There was the slick wet grasp of Billy's insides against his cock, of course, but looking into Billy's eyes as he fucked him for the first time was - undescribable. He'd never fucked anybody who was in love with him as he was with them before. Maybe Nancy in the beginning, but he didn't think so. He'd always been more into her than she was him. This, though. This feeling punched the breath out of him. It crackled.

"Shit," he said, finally pushing his hips flush against Billy's ass. "Baby. Billy. You feel so good."

Below him, Billy looked wrecked already. "You too," he croaked, lacing his fingers together on the pillow. "God, please fuckin' move."

Steve did, snapping his hips and fucking deep into Billy. If he did it right - there! He was rewarded with Billy's full-body shudder as he found his prostate. He leaned in to kiss at Billy's neck.

"Shouldn't - shouldn't have let me do this," he said, breathing hot and wet as he fucked Billy. "Can't fuckin' get enough of you. Jesus christ." 

"Me either," Billy said, moving with Steve, pushing up into his thrusts. "Not - not gonna get a new job, gonna stay here and - oh, fuck - get railed by you every day."

Steve laughed and fucked into him harder. "Yeah, that sounds - that sounds good," he said, and then moaned. "Oh, fuck. I'm close, Billy, baby, I love you," he babbled, barely knowing what he was saying.

"I - I fuckin' love you too, Steve, god, you're gonna make me come," Billy moaned, eyes on Steve's like they were attached by magnets. His cock was an angry red, rubbing between their bellies as they shared breath.

"Yeah," Steve said, and leaned in to kiss Billy. It wasn't much of a kiss, all biting at lips and sloppy with spit, but Billy Hargrove, the boy he'd been stupid over for weeks, fucking loved him, and Steve was overwhelmed by it. 

Billy moaned into the kiss, and a few moments later, Steve felt his cock between them, coating his belly with come. It made his ass spasm, tightening in ripples that made Steve whine, and oh fuck, that was it. He humped into Billy twice more, and then he was coming, white across his vision and everything, a toe-curling, spine-tingling orgasm.

When he could properly breathe again, he pulled out, one hand on the condom, and collapsed next to Billy. He probably really needed a fucking shower, but he couldn't think of anything besides how perfectly content he was in that moment. He reached his clean hand over to Billy's and laced their fingers together.

Billy ran his thumb back and forth over Steve's hand for a few moments. Then he said, "_Please_ tell me you got smokes up here."

"Yeah," Steve said, and passed him the pack and the lighter from his nightstand drawer. He smiled when Billy lit up and exhaled a cloud of smoke, looking the most relaxed Steve had ever seen him. "It was good for me, too."

Billy laughed. "Yeah, I could tell," he said. "The 'I love you' while fucking? Classic, Steve. Classic." 

"I meant it," Steve said, squeezing his hand. He wanted to make sure Billy knew that.

"So did I," Billy said immediately. "Just funny it took your dick in me to tell me, is all." He found an empty cup and ashed his cigarette into it.

Steve laughed, a little reluctantly. "I guess," he said. Then he got up to deal with the condom. It made him feel how gross and dirty he was, though, and now that fucking Billy wasn't such a priority, he was dying for a shower.

"Wanna get cleaned up with me?" he asked. "Then we can… I don't know, get our cars back, figure out what we're gonna do."

"You inviting me for round two? Already?" Billy said, raising his eyebrows.

"Well, I wouldn't say no, but I haven't showered in days, what with the Russians and all," Steve said. "And we just got you pretty messy."

Billy looked down at his come-covered belly. "We sure did," he said, sounding self-satisfied. "All right, pretty boy. Let's see what kind of shower you've got in this joint." He put his cigarette out and stood up. "Gotta take advantage of it while we can," he said. "I'm not living in a place like this forever."

Steve grinned. "We can look at the classifieds over breakfast," he said. "Pretty sure we both need new jobs too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S FINISHED! This is officially the longest thing I've ever written. Thank you all for your comments, kudos, reblogs, and bookmarks; they mean the world.


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